War Stories
by OneOfShadows
Summary: No one chooses their parents. Some are born Thalmor, and everyone has to deal with it best they can. I just do it better than others.
1. Chapter 1

The cool evening air swept through the camp, whistling as it flowed between the rocks. The guards were on a lookout, but no danger threatened. The Stormcloaks had not yet discovered our hiding place. With nothing better to do, I listened in at the conversation between Ghezara and Uleesis. An Orc and a Redguard. Discussing war. But this conversation was going differently from what I would've expected.

They were settled cross-legged in the grass beside the cooking spit.

"But wars are fought because of something. You are now implying that we are scrapping over nothing." The Redguard, Uleesis was patiently saying. I could almost see him trying not to hit Ghezara with something heavy.

"No, that was not what I said. I said we are fighting because of an idea." Ghezara, on the other hand, sounded peaceful. I never could understand, how she managed it. Orcs were supposed to be fearsome and berserk, but she just smiled demurely under her scarlet warpaint. Although, I must admit, when an Orc smiles, it mostly adds to the reputation and Ghezara's fangs were long and white, and scary.

"But an idea, as you call it, is nothing!" Uleesis wailed and scratched his bald head in despair.

"No. An idea is what drives all the wars. An idea that we ought to have this land, not them. An idea that we're better than them. An idea that they have too much gold, while we have big swords and we should do something about it."

"How can you call it an idea? We _are_ better than Stormcloaks. Why else fight them?" Uleesis was completely perplexed.

"You're not getting the point." Ghezara sighed. Inwardly I silently agreed. Redguards can be as stubborn as hell, but Uleesis was an especially severe case. "We are fighting, well, actually you are fighting because ... Why are you fighting?"

"Cuz he doesn't know how do farm, duh!" I laughed as I settled between them and grabbed an apple from the nearby sack. Uleesis raised his hooked nose slightly, irritation appearing in his Redguard brown eyes. He never did like me.

"I fight because I have sworn loyalty to the Empire and this Legion. I have sworn to protect the weak and the innocent, and that is what I'll do, no matter the cost." Yep, there it was - the heroic tone. I was completely unabashed however. This is how idiots without brains of their own talk. You just point them in the right direction and they run off fighting and screaming.

"Mhm, but what are you fighting for?" I managed between crunching down the apple.

"She has a point. What are you fighting for now? The Empire is nothing of what it was thirty years ago. Now you're fighting for the elves instead of against them." Ghezara said.

"I still fight for the Empire. I am not a man who abandons his oaths." He looked at me unfriendly. This was a sore point with me. I never kept a secret of that I abandoned the Stormcloaks in favor of the Legion.

I decided to leave him in peace. For the moment. "So, why do you fight? I know you're smart enough not to fight for the Thalmor." This earned me another poisonous look from Uleesis, but Ghezara pondered for a moment before speaking.

"Well, I guess that we both don't know how to farm." She smiled for a moment, but continued "When Orsinium was sacked by Bretons and Redguards, no offense, Ulee, the legion almost sacrificed itself to help us. They weren't obliged to do it. And now ... I could say that I'm partially returning the favor. But you? How come a High Elf decided to fight for the Stormcloaks in the first place, and then turn on them?"

Well, actually I'm a Thalmor secret agent and was sent in to spy on the Stormcloaks. But things got a bit wrong when one of the Nords found me writing a report. I gutted him, of course, but others saw it and after that, there was no staying with them. I didn't say that, of course. It's classified information.

"Ha, sorry, can't say. Nothing personal, you know, just don't like to talk about it." I said sheepishly instead. Uleesis snorted and got up to check if dinner was ready yet. We had to eat well this night, tomorrow was going to be a big day.


	2. Chapter 2

_The fight yesterday was a victory, but only just. The bloody stormcloaks ambushed us, fighting like mad dogs. They knew that their party had been the last thing standing between Markarth and us. In the end we won, of course, but a lot of people were lost.  
_

_So now I'm sitting here, nursing the gash in my arm, because there are people with far more serious injuries that require the healers full attention._

_Tribune Arterion already left to take the news to Solitude, leaving Tya in charge. We're going to march into the city tomorrow, crush any remaining opposition, although I doubt there's going to be any, and restore Igmund to jarlship. Piece of cake._

I finished the entry in my journal and after a second glance crossed out the first two lines. You never know who might be sneaking around and rummaging trough people's belongings at night.

The others were already drawing watches and Ghezara motioned to come and join. The seriously injured ones were left out, of course, and that left the only twelve of us. I got the second watch along with a Nord named Karjold and a lanky looking Imperial I couldn't remember. Ghezara was sent out hunting on the pretext that she as an Orc did it best, but she didn't mind. I once went with her, and when hunting she just became this strange being, all nerves and muscles perfectly tuned and in balance for one single purpose - slaughtering bunnies for dinner.

"Well, today was a bummer," the lanky Imperial remarked, stretching out in the grass.

"No shit." I laughed at him.

"I mean, really, the buggers knew we were coming," he complained further.

"Well, that's what happens when little beanpoles like you can't hold their liquor and shit and shriek all over the camp. Did you know that Karjold had to knock you out? No offense." I said, but with a chuckle to soften the harsh words.

"None taken. My first battle, you know." The boy looked almost apologetic.

"Half of Skyrim knows, boy, by all the noise you were making," Tya joined us, followed by Karjold. The two always seemed to be together, and, although a military camp is a hard place to gossip, things go around anyway.

"Anyway, on a subject that doesn't make me remember things I'd rather forget, what are we doing after the Reach?" I asked.

"Well, now we that we have the Reach, Eastmarch is the only hold left to stormcloaks. I suspect that most of you will stay here to garrison Markarth and Sungard, and the high-ups will want to pull fresh troops for Windhelm. But I'm only a Praefect, so they don't really tell me much," Tya said with a shrug, as if it was really not bothering her.

By this time we had all laid down on the grass, all military correctness forgotten in favor of comfort after a battle.

"Leunius, go gather some wood for the fire," Tya said after a moment of silence, "Ghezara's bound to return soon, and Aineliah," she turned to me, "you'll light the fire, yes?" The Imperial boy got up with a sigh left.

"Yes, of course." I was always happy to lend my skills in destruction.

"That's settled then," Tya laid back with a peaceful expression.

My watch was going to start after dinner, so I closed my eyes and enjoyed what peace and quiet I could, though admittedly it was very little in a camp this size. I started counting off the people here in mind. Twelve of us were good for duty, five were walking, but not ready for shifts, and seven in the sick tent, tended by field healers. They usually didn't count, but for the purposes of understanding how many people were here, they were three. That made, what twenty-seven?

My trail of thought was disturbed by the familiar low voice of Ghezara as she called from somewhere south-ish, "Come help me, I got a buck!"

I got up, seeing how not many were making a move for anywhere and toed Karjold in the ribs. The big Nord looked strong enough to lift a bull alone if need be. When he just cracked open one eye, I said, "Come on, time to get dinner."

Reluctantly he got up and we went in the direction of Ghezara's voice. She was waiting just off the edge of the camp, and as soon as she saw us coming, disappeared behind some rocks. This is what I hate about the Reach, the are bloody rocks everywhere!

The buck was laying on its side a few minutes walk from the camp, and it was a good kill. Arrow had neatly lodged in its eye. Karjold whistled and said approvingly, "You're one hell of a huntress. We'll eat well tonight." He took his axe and hacked the bucks antlers off, then grabbed its front legs and started pulling towards the camp. Me and Ghezara took the back legs.

When we got back, some wood - dried twigs and branches - was piled neatly in an approximate middle of the camp and I lighted it easily.

Ghezara started skinning the beast and I gingerly helped just to keep company - I never liked hunting much.

"Say, Aineliah, what's the talk about you being Thalmor?" Ghezara asked. In surprise I almost dropped my knife, then cut my thumb and then put the knife away for my own and everyone's safety.

"Thalmor? What talk is that? Not all Altmer are Thalmor."

"You're not answering the question."

"Of course I'm not!"

"Fine by me. It was just that earlier Ulee seemed torn between having to decide whether you're a Thalmor or a stormcloak spy."

I wrinkled my brows in disbelief, then asked, "And what did he settle for?"

"Thalmor, obviously."

"I just might have to hit him sometime."

Ghezara chuckled and continued with her work.


	3. Chapter 3

The night was calm as I took my watch along with Karjold and the boy, Leunius. Stars sparkled and the wind blew slowly and quietly. In this island of calm I could almost forget about the war, the Thalmor and their demands, about the bloody stormcloaks and their so-called king. But the thoughts came to haunt me anyway, all the responsibilities and obligations piled on my shoulders. I could never shake them away for long.

Our watch was more for show, as it proved when the second hour passed with no disturbances. All was silent, apart from the occasional groan from the injured tent where the healers were still working their magic. Idly I contemplated for a moment whether I should go and help, but I was tired after all, and Restoration had never been my strong side. Battlemages did not bother to learn anything more than the most basic healing spells, instead relying on the ability to blast enemies away before they could do any harm. I must confess, I did the exact same, falling in line with all the rest of ... us.

I shuddered at the memory coming back, from where I had pushed it in the back of my mind. I really should not think about this sort of thing. An elf could go mad that way very fast.

I nodded to Karjold, who came past me on his round, but he, instead of calmly continuing on his way, came over and whispered to me, "I think there's some forsworn nearby. They've been keeping quiet, but there might be an attack."

I groaned. Just as my watch was going to end, there would of course be an attack. Just my luck. "How many?" I whispered back just as silently.

"About three, from what I glanced, but I think they were just watching."

"Might not come to a fight." A hope sparked in my mind. I could get my sleep after all.

"Might and might not. But I'd advise you to check."

A sighed and motioned for him to lead on. He led me to the very west edge of the camp, overlooking a lazy river, glinting in the starlight. I cast a spell of detect life and four little lights of life glinted in my vision.

"Four. On the other side of the river." I informed the Nord, who was hovering just behind my back.

"They moved back then. Won't be a problem. You can go to sleep now, I'll wake Uleesis and Harrol and Tya. Tell Leunius he can go to sleep too."

I gave Karjold a grateful smile. The big Nord was kind-hearted and understanding, unless you were his enemy. Then he would hack your head off as a matter of course and sleep well that night too. No wonder Tya had made her arrangement of ... an intimate nature with him. I myself would have been attracted, if he wasn't a Nord.

I glanced over the camp until I spotted Leunius, who was industriously sharpening a knife by the light of a torch stuck in the ground. I tapped him on the shoulder, which made him jump and flail around with the knife, nearly stabbing me in the eye. I dodged barely and snatched the blade away, before he could do anything worse.

"Quiet boy!" I hissed as he steadied himself and looked ashamed, "Firstly, you were supposed to watch the camp, and secondly, you can go to sleep now. Shift change."

"Oh, finally," he sighed and just walked away. I growled silently and extinguished the torch with a wave of my hand, then slipped the knife carefully in the sheath that was lying next to it. Silly boy, by what mad plot of the gods had he survived the battle at all, when men and women much more experienced and careful had died? Beginners luck, most likely.

I followed his lead then, and walked to my tent. No use standing around and worrying about stupid beginners, when I could be enjoying some much desired and needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day too. Lately all of them were.

* * *

Morning dawned cold and sharp, as I woke with the twittering of birds in my ears and the smell of yesterday's dinner cooking in my nose. Usually such prospect wold have deterred me, but in times of war you eat what you can get and be grateful for it too. More importantly, it was morning when I woke, which meant that there had not been an attack in the night. Sometimes I just had to applaud such signs of good-will from people, who, according to stories, didn't even bother to wash, much less observe the basic niceties of not attacking people who are sick and tired of fighting. For the moment, at least.

The camp was slowly getting up and about. Some had packed their tents already and had started to eat. I launched myself out of the tent. I was most certainly not going to miss breakfast. Packing could wait.

We sat around the fire in circles. Normally we would have a five mile march to warm ourselves up, but this day was exceptional. The Reach was ours and taking Markarth could surely wait until lunch. We all had earned a rest.

I contemplated on this as we ate. I didn't partake in the chatter around me - I rarely did. Probably, if Tribune Arterion hadn't left, we'd be marching already. None here but me knew this, but his brother, Ondolemar, was the Thalmor representative in Markarth and as the stormcloaks took the city all contact with him had been lost. The dubious pleasure to find about his fate fell to me now.

We finished eating and hid the fireplace carefully. Not really necessary, not anymore, but old habits are difficult to get rid of.

Tya climbed on a rock and shouted in an authoritative voice, "Listen up, people! Today we take Markarth," she had to stop for the cheers to die down, "and our battle will most likely be over. The stormcloaks will probably put up a fight, but my contacts tell me there's not more than ten guards left. They will, no doubt, be expecting us, but we can overcome. So - giddy up and let's go!" She stepped down to laughter and went to make the final arrangements with the healers who were going to stay behind with the twelve most injured.

We marched out in an untidy column, Ghezara falling in beside me as usual. There was a mutual understanding between us, which was extremely unusual for Orcs and Altmer. We usually were not the races that mixed easily. And still in battles we watched each others' back and generally looked out for each other.

Everyone trotted gently in silence - all were mentally preparing for the oncoming battle, convincing they could win and survive. I knew I would survive - the gods had more plans for me.


	4. Chapter 4

The battle was not much of a battle. The pathetic guards put down their weapons after the first two fell. They were the old men, left in the city because they weren't any good in a fight anymore. Some of the citizens greeted us happily, although the quite infamous Silver-Bloods gave a spirited attempt at defiance. After Kryla put their clan head, or whatever the Nordic buggers call them, down, all was peaceful. Apparently he didn't want to be removed from old guards we put in Cidhna mine for the time being, but no one told them to mine, and they got plenty of food.

Everyone settled down in the barracks and Tya sent Cicada to fetch the healers and injured, who ought to be halfway healed by now. I on the other hand had no time to relax and went instead to find out what had become of Ondolemar. Hopefully, not stew.

Not many people wanted to talk to me, so I wondered through the city for some time. The sun was not yet setting, but the great mountain that the city had been built into threw a dark shadow over all. I admired the architecture as much as questioned the residents, so my walk took a while. The city really was wonderful, all carved stone buildings and graceful bridges over delicately carved little canals.

Answer came finally, delivered by a fellow Altmer, a mage named Aicantar. He was not as withdrawn from the happenings of the world as his apparently mad uncle, and told me what had happened without much reluctance.

The stormcloaks had rushed the city with ridiculously huge forces the day the Legion left and made everyone swear fealty to Ulfric. Ondolemar, as proud a Thalmor you could ever have the bad luck to meet, of course had refused and was in the end chased in the river with three arrows in his back. That happened one and a half years ago. As he had not given any signs of himself in the time, I had to conclude he was dead. Arterion was silly to harbor hopes of his survival, but Elenwen would no doubt show him my report.

Oh, yes, the report. I should get to work on that one.

Since I had the information finally, I made my way through this maze of a city to the barracks. I had found the keep easily enough, but I had no idea how to get to the barracks, even though the tower loomed just behind a very templish-looking building. I had to ask for directions twice. At least no one sniggered, although a Redguard woman did look very amused as she pointed me the right way.

The party of injured had returned while I was out hunting for information. They looked to be in a better condition than before, even if still a bit ragged around the edges.

The barracks were, well, just barracks. Even if made in a very pretty tower. Except for the beds. The beds were stone. Stone beds. Bloody, damned STONE BEDS! Ghezara joined me as I stared at the one that was supposedly mine. "Bit of a blow, eh?" she smiled at me humorlessly.

"It's stone! They're made of gods-damned stone! I wanted to get here so I could finally sleep in a proper bed! With a mattress! And lots of fluffy pillows!"

"Yeah, we all think something like that. We can't even budge them - Ulee thinks they're carved right out of the floor."

"Oh, god, I wish I won't have to stay here."

"No one does."

Well, the others certainly did not have any choice in the matter, but I was confident I could persuade Lady Elenwen to pull some strings and get me out of here. I settled down on my bed, wincing, because it was even more hard than it looked and rummaged in my knapsack which Ghezara had been kind enough to bring here while I went 'sight-seeing'. The journal was right there, apparently undisturbed and I found a quill and an inkpot too, and set to writing the dreaded report.

_Lady Elenwen,_

_Today our forces have taken Markarth. The final resistance was minimal, as you predicted already. Justiciar Ondolemar apparently has been killed on the day the stormcloaks invaded. Tribune Arterion left us before I could find this out though. His distress over the matter has been apparent to all, __so I would advise you to inform him as soon as possible.  
_

_A few fellow legionnaires have grown suspicious of me, so I would like to be removed from Markarth as soon as possible, if need be to even take part in the attack on Windhelm.  
_

_Glory to the Thalmor. _

I tore the page out and folded it carefully, then pocketed it. I should update the journal too, but I was so very tired ... I yawned and got to my feet and went over to the little guard kitchen, where a number of my comrades were enthusiastically enjoying fresh food and meat you didn't have to catch yourself. As though the lazy buggers ever did.

I made a meat, tomato and cheese sandwich for the way and went to find a courier before complete darkness set in. There were a few usually, hanging around the stables and chatting to carriage drivers. Today there was none, although the only driver told me he was going to Solitude soon and was willing to take the letter for me, provided there was someone to take it on the other end. I just told him to give it to any of the Thalmor - there were always a few somewhere around Solitude or on the road leading to it. Probably I should've been more cautious, but I didn't have any choice and Lady Elenwen didn't like to be informed by the General of anything. I gave the man ten septims, which was not a lot, and his expression proved it, but he softened when I told him I didn't have any more gold. That much was true.

Back in the barracks everyone was trying to settle in their beds, without much success. The things really were awful. Even the thick fur covering couldn't do much good, and they were chilly even though the fire in the fireplace was roaring hot. Nevertheless I got into bed and eventually sleep took me.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning rose again, presumably, but fortunately I was in no position to see it, as I was not very comfortably, but certainly warmly wrapped in fluffy and soft animal furs. Even a bed like this is appreciated over ground, even if it is softer than the bed. There is just something so very wonderfully civilized about a bed. It made you feel like a real human, or elf in my case, living a normal life. Bedrolls simply couldn't do it.

That was my line of thought as I lay there with the blissful feeling that today the most dangerous thing that I was going to do would be some light guard duty. I didn't have to get up for marching five miles to an enemy occupied fort and then take it, I didn't have to disrupt enemy caravans, kill spies and most importantly - hunt for my own food. This was bliss.

The bliss was intruded by a rough nudge in my ribs and an even rougher voice said, "Get up already, we have to make the shift schedule."

Oh, joy. Boring repetitive routes, standing for hours at the same post, thief-taking ... What could possibly be better?

Well, probably quite a few things, I thought as I looked over the parchment with the temporary schedule, we finally agreed on after much arguing. Tya as our commanding officer was of course in charge, until the time Solitude sent us some orders. I had patrol duty on Morndas, Tirdas and Middas mornings and watch duty on Middas, Turdas, Fredas and Loredas afternoons. Not the most ... cheerful of timetables, but if I got a bed, then I could do anything. Well, maybe not the jobs that included beds as work equipment. Definitely not those. But anything else.

Today was Sundas, which meant that the whole day was free for me. I swore to myself to go and visit Ghezara, who had watch duty in the keep for the whole day. Most went out immediately, to get some nice breakfast at the inn, or for duty. I after a cold, but still tasty meal, got in some normal clothes I found stashed in a cupboard, as strange as it was, and went out to explore the city. There was a wonderful view from the tower entrance and in the misty morning I watched from above as people cried their wares in the market, as if this was a normal day, and a dozen Imperial soldiers, followed by a further dozen had not just invaded the city and thrown the guards in jail, and made a spectacle of the recent jarl.

As I watched, a rider appeared on the other side of the wall and jumped of the horse in a hurry. He ran in the city, no doubt carrying some important orders for Tya. I climbed down and managed to find the market without going astray more than once. He was still there, probably inquiring after Tya, but to my surprise, as soon as he saw me, he ran right up and thrust a sealed piece of parchment to me.

"Here you go ma'am. From the Thalmor embassy," he said and ran towards the keep, not even bothering to ask for a tip.

I looked around suspiciously, but no one seemed to have taken notice of this. If anyone heard the Thalmor associated with me, I could be in big trouble. I found a quiet corner with no people rushing by and opened the letter. It had arrived much faster than I expected - even galloping with a horse should take more than half a night to travel the distance between Markarth and Solitude.

_I was pleased to hear of your success. The death of Justiciar Ondolemar, on the other hand is unfortunate news, although I had my suspicions. You will stay in Markarth to report, though. I understand your reluctance to do so, but we need an agent there. I will see you honorably discharged, you shall have a house - I believe there is one vacant at the moment, and your position will be Legion adviser to the Jarl. I hope this is understood and there will be no wrangling.  
_

_E.  
_

That was that. Well, it was certainly preferred to guard duty and I was happy to be off the schedule. Guarding may be better than warring, but nothing beat lounging around all day._  
_

I made my way to the keep, getting lost only once, and the guard on door - Neveria, nodded to me as I went in. That was going to be awkward. A simple foot-soldier, getting a position as adviser? That was bound to raise some of the more mistrustful eyebrows.

The courier was talking to who I suspected was the steward, and pointed to me as soon as I came close enough to be recognized in the gloom. The elderly steward greeted me, "Aineliah, is it? You have been appointed as the Imperial adviser, as I'm sure you know." When I nodded in agreement, he continued, "We welcome you to Markarth and hope the cooperation with the Legion officers will be long and fruitful. If you care to follow me, I will show you to your new home, Vlindrel Hall."

I didn't care to guess what magic Elenwen had worked, but it must have included some serious death threats. To get me everything this was puzzling, to say the least, but I was happy at the prospect of a house.

When we finally arrived and the steward unlocked the front door with a heavy bronze key, which he proceeded to give to me, I was even happier. When he showed me around the house I was in total bliss, because the house had a proper bed, pillows and all.

When I said my good-byes at the door, I was barely holding back delighted squeaking. A home, for me alone? With a proper BED! And an alchemy station and enchanting laboratory and everything! This was going to be the best time of my life!


	6. Chapter 6

Three weeks later.

I woke up felling quite excited. Today was the 27th of Rain's Hand and more importantly - my birthday. Mylena and the others always sniggered about how I still waited them, even being more than a century old already. But a birthday is proof that one has survived another years and is still counting. I turned 126 today.

I made my morning coffee with my eyes barely keeping open. It was expensive stuff, imported all the way from Elseweyr, or whatever they were calling the place these days, but it kept me awake in the dreaded meetings with the Jarl. The man did not realize how bloody boring he was, and I didn't have the heart to tell him. So I sat there, once every five days and listened to developments and plans and taxes and so forth and even further on. Boring. But I had to do it, I was the adviser, and I did my best and consulted with Tullius regularly. Apparently he was just as miffed about me being suddenly elevated to the position, but it had to be someone and he wouldn't have put Arterion on the duty anyway, as he was preparing for the final assault on Windhelm.

Argis, my housecarl, was already up. Sometimes it almost shamed me, I thought as I watched him sweep the room, being so terribly lazy. Argis had been another piece of Elenwen's magic. I asked the Jarl to assign me a helper, housekeeper and general assistant, which was apparently what a housecarl was, but he had ever so graciously informed me that housecarls were only for Thanes and I was not one. I immediately complained to Elenwen and a few days later Argis showed up and told me what an honor it was to be my housecarl.

I drank my coffee fast, trying not to spill any on my nightgown, and ate the roasted potatoes and beef Argis had made for my breakfast. He really was wonderful. And also very importantly, so was the breakfast.

Not that I lounge all day around the house and do nothing at all. I did for the first five days, but it really is boring. Very. So, usually I go exploring around the caves and ruins.

I finished (wolfed down) the breakfast and got dressed as fast as I could. Strangely enough, I over-sleep only on the meeting days, and on this day too I was nearly late already. I contemplated about getting one of the 'clocks' that supposedly could tell the time, but any dwemer constructs that didn't try and kill you were extremely expensive, and I was starting to feel embarrassed about exercising my privileges too much. What puzzled me though was how come I got them so late.

My dress for the day was a pretty blue one, embroidered with gold. Ghezara joked that I was getting vain, and I of course joked back that it was a racial affliction, but the azure blue really did bring out my golden complexion very nicely. Oh, yes, that's what she was talking about.

The city was in a bustle already as I stepped out of my home and looked down on the market. Very good place for looking down, that. The sun was behind the mist and the clouds again, as it usually was lately, but everyone told me it was normal at this time of the year, so who was I to argue.

Down the long stone steps and up some more and down again and up. I used to twist my ankles so often that I must've surely become an adept at Restoration. The steps have been so worn down by rain and mist and wind and time, that they're hardly there anymore.

The meeting was already in progress, and Igmund looked at me disapprovingly as I rushed in the room, disrupted the stewards rant about some increase in Imperial tax, and sat down without another word.

"As I was saying," Raerek scowled briefly at me, "the Legion has increased the tax by another two hundred septims. Supposedly, this is for the war effort, but I can't help but wonder, if they are taking taking advantage of this excuse."

The gazes of the Jarl, the steward, the head guard - Tya, Thonar Silver-Blood and Faleen turned to me, so I defiantly turned my nose up and said as diplomatically as a true Imperial, "The Legion is mounting the final attack on Windhelm - armor and swords need to be made, soldiers paid their due, widows and orphans taken care of. All this is expensive, as you know, and as soon as all of Skyrim is united once again under Imperial rule, I shall immediately advise the General to lower the taxes again. For now, I think you should pay your due and not stint. You cannot expect the Legion's protection for free."

The Jarl coughed and said to ward off anything nasty Faleen certainly wanted to say, "Very well, _adviser_. We will pay and, of course, offer any other support. To the other matters at hand - a thief recently broke into..."

I dozed off, well, nearly dozed off, surfacing only to hear some phrases like, 'the bard in Silver-Blood Inn has made a petition to outlaw beef' and 'the beggars have requested a hundred septims to be paid to each, which is a serious matter' and 'a traveler, who claims to be Dragonborn, insisted he was also a talking frog'. Although, I think I must've misheard the last one.

There were no spectacularly interesting things and the Jarl droned on in his slightly nasal voice. I tried to make notes on the more serious matters, which most certainly did not include talking frogs of any kind, Dragonborn or not.

"Aineliah!"

I snapped my eyes open and raised my head guiltily from the resting place on my crossed arms. A courier was standing next to me, rummaging in his pack for something. As I stared feeling a bit miffed - Elenwen's usual letter wasn't due for at least three days - he took out a small package.

"The note is inside I was told," the courier said and left.

All notes from headquarters came like this - Elenwen was adamant about not betraying my position. It was, could it be, a present? I shuddered in excitement.

The Jarl rose and said, "I think that concludes our meeting. You are all free to go."

We all got up and shuffled towards the meeting room door. As I strode through the hall, Tya caught up with me and said, "Ghezara told us it's your birthday. Come to the tower at the shift change, we have a little surprise for you."

She hurried away, not letting me say a word to her and I continued in the walk of a relaxed citizen without anything to do. Ghezara would be on shift now, and I didn't like to disturb her, so I continued back home, with the package under my arm.


	7. Chapter 7

The problem with me is that even some of my fellow Altmer (Thalmor) don't trust me. 'She is too soft', they say, 'too understanding'. No true believer in the Hegemony liked me very much, for my understanding and objective views about the Nords and their so-called Ninth Divine. Which was why I was the perfect spy.

Silly people. I wouldn't worry so much about what they believed in, more about what they did. And now the buggers were trying to kill Tullius, the Legion and us. It was common knowledge that the emperor was dead already.

Well, common knowledge among us. Tullius shushed it down and found another decoy to be carefully guided by advisers and, shortly after returning to Cyrodiil, die of 'natural causes'. The oldest game in the book of leadership.

I tripped. Damn, I was not looking under my feet again. The little carefully wrapped package slid out and would have clattered to the ground if I had not caught it again in time. I really should be more careful.

The house was scrubbed and cleaned. The stone tables and chairs, and floor would never sparkle, but it looked to be trying. Argis had finished up and gone. For some shopping, hopefully. We were running out of meat again.

I left my shoes by the door. I wasn't obliged to, but somehow, even the thought of walking with my dusty, outside footwear on that pristine floor felt almost sacrilegious. I laughed at myself. An Altmer, who thought Talos was nonsense, was going to build a religion around clean floors.

I sat down cross-legged on my so very soft and not-stone bed and unwrapped what presumably was a gift. Once I had gotten off the last layer of fabric, a slender silver chain slid out, along with a note. I looked at the chain first. It wasn't long enough to be necklace, so I tried putting it around my wrist where it fit perfectly. It radiated the soft glow of enchantment. I opened the note after setting the bracelet in my lap.

_Daughter, I wish you happiness above all. I hoped to be with you this day, but as you see, circumstances will not allow it. The bracelet will provide you with a useful enchantment, I trust. It will help you achieve your goals. My love to you._

No signature. Yes, my mother wouldn't be that silly. To be called 'daughter' only once a year was a bit chilly, but considering the advantages, I could live with it.

By the Eight, being cold and calculating really did go with the job. Or maybe it was in our very nature.

I looked absentmindedly at the wall, trying to calculate what time it was. The guard shift change was still a couple of hours away, so no hurry on that account.

I slid off my bed and padded barefoot to the study. I placed the bracelet carefully on the enchanting table and the glow of magic intensified and read into my mind in a form I could understand. 'Fortify speechcraft', eh? Good thinking, mother.

What to do now? Probably best send my report to Elenwen. Even in my mind the name was painted with sarcasm and drenched in irony. Elenwen. Elenwen kiss my arse, if I was going to write a report on my bloody birthday!

I fastened the bracelet around my wrist and stood there. I really had no idea what to do with myself now. How I wished for a proper company of Altmer now. Damn Elenwen again.

Well, I could wander around the city, casually telling people that it was my birthday, and then watch them scrabble around for gifts. But best not. That would only help for my reputation as a stuck-up manipulator. I sighed and made up my mind. If I couldn't get a proper company of Altmer, Aicantar would have to do. For now.

I made my way trough the city again, this time paying attention to the ground, and got to the keep with only a minor twist to my right ankle. What surprised me as I entered the hall, was Ghezara's muscular form, dwarfed only by the one she was standing next to. It was probably Moth. I couldn't help but laugh. Usually Orcs didn't pay any mind to the concept of courting, their marriage being rather ... forced on some accounts, so these were managing rather well in the circumstances. Taking lunch together, hunting in the sunset, that sort of thing. So romantic, though Ghezara would punch me, if she heard the word mentioned in her presence. And that was the soft option - she hit Uleesis with a bucketful of water when he sniggered, albeit briefly, about it.

That made me wonder though. Ghezara found what she wanted and rolled up her sleeves and got to it. Maybe this city would seem more bearable, if I found someone too? My mind turned too Aicantar immediately and I twisted it back again. Eww. The elf always smelled of old paper scrolls and dwarven oil, and was about as courageous and exciting as a paper duckling.

I bit my tongue not to laugh out loud. Considering Ghezara's still quite near presence it could be marginally better than being mauled by a bear, but only just. Instead I scurried to the left where Calcelmo and Aicantar usually worked on their dwarven stuff. Excitement aside, they were knowledgeable and quite interesting to talk to, if the mood took them. Sometimes it was just droning, the sort you politely nod your head to and wonder if you're going to get away before the next ice age.

The three hours passed like a half-dead snail, but finally they were done. I excused myself of their presence, cutting off Calcelmo, who was telling about something some Lord Ihlendam had done, and strode away, trying not to make it look as if I was running away.

The city was suspiciously absent of guards as I made my way to their tower. Probably it was going to be quite a big surprise. Hopefully not the one with a bear.

I slowly creaked the door open. Inside was unusually dark, and not a soul in sight. I could cast a spell of Detect Life of course, but that would ruin my chance of hitting the first one who jumped from some corner and then nonchalantly say it was just a reflex. Hehe.

I wandered slowly down the stairs and wondered when the surprise was going to be sprung. Hopefully before I twisted my ankle in this twilight. And that's when the surprise sprung.


	8. Chapter 8

As I slowly drifted to consciousness, the first thing that came to mind was a headache. No, not came, but ran, crashing and bounding, leaping, occupying my whole immediate existence.

Hangover.

A cool damp something, hopefully a towel, was placed over my eyes, somewhat relieving the ache. I let a sigh of relief, and something beside me stirred.

"You're awake." It was the unmistakable low rumble of Argis. I pushed the towel up and cracked my eyes open. It was dark, though in this house of stone and no windows it was always dark. I saw the great bulky shape of his, illuminated by the candle behind.

"Gods, what gave it away?" I whispered. Even that made my head pound in pain. Well, more pain anyway.

I waggled my fingers in the form of a healing spell but to my great annoyance it made the smallest of differences. I steadied myself enough to sit up and looked at Argis, who was sitting by the bed. Very sweet of him, considering that caring for hung-over elves was probably not in his job description.

"What time is it?" I asked trying to ignore the sour taste in my mouth.

He passed me a cup of milk (gods, really?) and only the answered in that slow, careful way of his, "The morning bell rang a few hours ago."

"It's tomorrow already?" I couldn't manage a scream just now, but made my best effort. The look of instant puzzlement on Argis' face told me that there was something wrong with the logic of the question.

I knuckled my forehead in hopes that my brain would wake up with me and make some effort at coherence. I started slowly and checking every word, "What I mean is, is it the Loredas already? Or have I missed something more?"

"Yes. Loredas. The 28th. I carried you here after one of the priestesses of Dibella came and complained about how you were making a mess at the temple."

Oh, joy. Now I should probably go and apologize.

A memory sprang up from where it had been buried under layers and layers of alcohol. Karjold, the bastard, damn his hide! I should have known that getting in a drinking contest with a Nord is a bloody stupid thing to do.

All I could do was wallow in my bed now, and enjoy having nowhere to hurry, when all the poor bastards who had drunk as much as me had guard duty. That gave me comfort over the splitting headache.

I spent most of the day laying in my bed, with Argis delivering the occasional sandwich or cup of hot tea, until I finally deemed myself ready to go and meet the cruel light of day, not to mention a probably very angry priestess. Not my best day at all.

I left Argis to his own devices and stepped unsteadily out the door. My head was still spinning a bit and tried to hold to the walls as I stepped in small jerky motions. The sun was presumably setting, but who could tell behind the customary layer of cloud. It definitely looked darker than normal daytime.

There weren't much people about, but some of those that were still on the walkways gave me odd looks. I had checked in the mirror, hadn't I? I didn't look grotesquely hung-over anymore, and I had done my best to gather my messy golden hair in one thick braid.

Somehow I thought priests and priestesses approved of braids. They looked the mark of calm and modest, and religious people.

The temple looked the worse for wear, with plenty of smashed bottles and what I hoped was only red wine, otherwise I was in hell of a trouble. Some sort of glittery dust was scattered everywhere too, and the holy water looked not so very holy indeed anymore. Surely I couldn't have made this scene of carnage alone. Could I? No, never.

The priestess was certainly not in her best mood, and it only worsened when she saw me. As I hovered respectfully near the door, she stalked up to me and made an attempt at towering over me. That didn't work however, since no one can out-tower an Altmer, except for possibly a bigger Altmer. She settled then for looking disdainfully at me, which also was a failed attempt, as the expression on her comely features made her look like a rather angry puppy.

I tried my best not to snigger, but said instead, "I am dreadfully sorry for the disturbance last night. I will do my best to make it up to you."

The priestess studied me for a moment, her expression growing thoughtful. I frantically tried to remember what the practices of Dibellan priestesses were and whether they included any ... unconventional practices, but nothing of the sort came to mind. The worst I could remember included only a trout. Hopefully I was not going to be the example of 'cruel and unusual punishment' done to blasphemers.

She said, as if having read my mind, in a voice far too smug for someone religious, "As your punishment you perform fifteen days of servitude. Or there is an other matter. Recently a powerful amulet was," she paused as if trying to find the right word, "stolen by a group of Forsworn. We believe it is now at Lost Valley Redoubt. You can choose."

Two weeks of scrubbing against a ruin full of Forsworn ripe for plunder? This was an easy one. On reflection later, not a lucky one though.

"I will go to the ruin." I said, trying to look as humble as possible.

"Very well." The priestess nodded to me and turned to go back to whatever priestesses do all day. Pray, I suppose.

Seeing there was not going to be any berating or cursing I left, straightening up again as I stepped out of the temple. The night would see me right as rain and tomorrow I could go to the damn cave and get that amulet.

Should have asked how it was stolen exactly. We would have heard about a Forsworn attack in the city. Unless the priestesses did strange things in the wilderness at night... But who knows the ways of Dibella? Or, I chuckled to myself, who dares to know them?

Argis, ever so loyal, was cooking something very nourishing-smelling when I finally, albeit unsteadily, got back. I sat down by the table and took up a book while he finished the stew or soup or whatever it was. Chance's Folly. One of my favorites, but letters danced and spun in front of my eyes, until I finally thumped the book down, exasperated.

Argis didn't comment. He only carefully set the dish in front of me. It did smell very good, and tasted too. I contemplated again as I ate, on my cruel misuse of his services - a housecarl was usually expected to go into battle valiantly next to his Thane, crushing all enemies of their hold and being bloody heroic in just about every sort of way one could imagine. Not make meals for lazy elves, and clean up regularly. But Argis didn't protest, and once when I asked if he was alright with this, he replied that it was his duty to serve. So be it then.

Night fell.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke feeling surprisingly well, considering the events of the day before yesterday. The thought of venturing in a Forsworn cave also cheered me up considerably - the people had always struck me as rather dumb in their ways. The only thing they convince others of by dressing in animal skins and prancing around killing everyone was that they were thoroughly and completely mad. I knew of course of the so-called 'Cidhna Incident' where the Dragonborn had been put in the Cidhna Mine, killed all the Forsworn there, and came out a hero. And still, even with their leaders dead, the madmen kept trying, ambushing caravans as enthusiastically as ever.

But they just fought because they had always fought. They raised their children to the fight. They welcomed hagravens in the fight. Their true cause was lost to them.

I ate my breakfast and got into my adventuring gear - elven armor that the local smith Ghorza was kind enough to make for me, for the appropriate sum of money, of course. Argis offered to accompany me, but something told me I had to refuse, and who was I to argue against eldritch voices in my head.

I walked through the market and out the gate, down the steps and away from the city, with my nose in my map, trying to puzzle out the best way to get to the blasted ruin of a temple. Those ancient Nordic buggers built them everywhere, and even after years of trying ...

No, wait, I wasn't trying to find anything out after all. It was probably something to do with their dragon religion. But that had rather backfired, and now the ruins stood free for all. It was mostly just bandits, but here in the Reach they were all occupied by the Forsworn. As if they couldn't find nice caves, no, the amulet had to be taken a full day's away and probably buried in a gloomy trap-filled and Forsworn-filled old temple.

Maybe that was the snooty elf in me talking. Sometimes those ruins weren't so bad, filled with a soft torchlight and considerably more loot than the caves.

I set out in a brisk pace - there no time to waste. The sooner I got this thing sorted, the sooner I could return to lazing around all day.

Gods, what was I doing with myself? The innocent thought struck me like a hammer's blow. Lazing around, stuffing up on delicacies, going out only rarely, usually to check if I still could fit into my armor! I need to get back in the Legion as soon as possible.

The three weeks of boredom have done nothing to make me softer though. I settled into the familiar jog, that wasn't to slow, but nevertheless could be kept on for hours. If Legion had ever taught me something, it was how to run, even if it does sound a bit ironic.

I arrived at Old Hroldan a good few hours before sundown, and debated with myself whether I should stay for the night, but won over my common sense, thought 'what the hell', and decided to stay only for a brief meal.

Which turned out to be extremely brief, on the account of the boy, who apparently hated all elves. I just managed to ask for a light dinner and pay, before he started a tirade of, "You're a High Elf, right? Are you Thalmor? If you came to take the inn and enslave us, know I can put anyone down." That, I thought was rather bravado from a kid half as tall as me. His mother hastily showed a little package into my hands before murmuring, "I'm very sorry, but he just sometimes gets like that." and gently pushing me out.

I went down back to the riverside, hunkered down on a conveniently flat rock and unwrapped the package. It contained bread and apples, cheese and a cold rabbit haunch. Not exactly what I had wanted, but probably the best I was going to get.

Stupid stereotypes. What in the world could possibly persuade me to enslave someone? And I didn't want their little inn - I doubt any Altmer did. We want big, beautiful cities, sparkling towers, kings bowing to us... Well, maybe not everyone's cup of tea, but certainly ours. Except that Altmer would choose red wine, not tea.

I tossed the rabbit bones into the bushes and stuffed the folded wrapper in my pouch, and got on my way. The ruin ought be just behind the next cliff, at the bottom of which I could see a cave. Strange, I thought, as I checked my map. It wasn't marked.

Well, I could mark it, while I was here. On reflection much later, it was either the best, or the worst idea in my life.

I waded across the shallow river and climbed up to the entrance of the cave. I looked carefully back, trying to measure distance as best as I could, and carefully poked a concentration of heat in what I judged to be the right place. It left a neat little black circle.

No harm in me checking what's in the cave, is there? No, none. I walked in as carefully as I could, hoping there wasn't an army of wolves or Falmer just waiting for me. There wasn't, so I took a moment to admire the view. A tree was growing right in the middle of the first cavern, under a hole in the ceiling. In the day it would probably be washed by brilliant light, but now it stood dark.

I was so caught up in admiring the tree, that I felt the presence behind me only when a hand clamped over my mouth and another snaked around my waist. I jutted out my elbow and heard a grunt when it collided with someone's ribs, yet the hands did not release. The kick backwards met nothing solid. I tried burning the hands, but the spells found some sort of resistance. I continued to struggle, but to no avail.

Finally an idea caught me. I rocked suddenly backwards, hitting something with my head and bringing us both down on the ground, me on top, which I found a very good position to be in. As I turned around to confront my attacker, I only got a brief look at a very familiar face, then the force of some strange spell caught me and I flew backwards.

Everything went black as my head collided with the tree.


	10. Chapter 10

It looked as if waking up with a dreadful headache was becoming a habit of mine. I could only hope in the future it wouldn't include bound hands and feet as it did now.

Through the dim haze of pain I heard a crackle of fire nearby, and a warmth on my left. There was even a cloth tied over my eyes, but maybe it was just as well. I wasn't sure I really wanted to see where I was. I tried to shift, to move, but something was keeping me as if locked in place. I tried probing with magic, but the realization made my gasp - I could no longer feel the pulse of magic.

And just my luck, even the armor had been taken off. The bastard.

Then a voice, an almost forgotten, but still familiar voice said, "My pardons for this ... well, situation, but I was forced to take precautions."

I laughed and through the throbbing said disdainfully, "This is what you call precautions? My definition would lean more towards torture." I was beginning to get angry. The pain at the back of my head all but forgotten, I unwittingly started to raise my voice, "You bloody bastard! One and a half years you have hid from all of us! Do you even understand what your brother went through? Do you know that because of YOU I had to stay in that INFERNAL, bloody, damned STONE CITY?"

"Yes, I wondered about that." He chuckled, completely unmoved by my anger, and I heard movement, steps coming closer and closer ... Then he spoke again in that calm measured way that was driving me crazy, "You see, my dear Lady Aineliah," he pronounced my name in bitter sarcasm, "I have my ways of gathering information, and tell me, how does an Academy drop-out suddenly become a Legion advisor?"

Movement even closer, right beside me... It was excruciating, just laying there, bound and blind, not able to defend myself from whatever was coming, not able to strike out at this elf, who knew far too much...

Something soft brushed my cheek gently and I jerked away. The voice continued, "I know how, you see. I know who you really are. And you are going to do a favor for me."

"I will do nothing!" I spat, "I don't know what are you talking about, and I don't know why have you dragged me here, but you will pay for this!"

"Oh? Rather haughty, aren't we? For a simple foot-soldier? I think you are lying, my dear lady."

I grabbed my rage like a mad stallion, reined it in and calmed myself, "Possibly we can come to some kind of an arrangement..." I left the question-mark hanging gently in the air.

"Now, now, so you're willing to bargain after all?" The elf was toying with me, I realized. He was going to pay, just as soon as I got my magic back.

"Possibly." I repeated again, even more calmly, if that was possible.

"I'll take you on your word then." More movement, and I was brought to a sitting position, the blindfold taken off. I had to squeeze my eyes shut at the sudden burst of light that attacked my senses. It took a moment to adjust, and I murmured, "Well, you could've left that on."

He laughed and said, "I have to see your eyes, dear, to know whether you're lying. Look at me."

I hesitantly opened my eyes, and there he was, indeed it was him, sitting in front of me, clothed in ragged furs and leathers stitched together, as handsome as the last time I'd seen him...

Reality cut in sharply again, and I cursed myself. Mooning over him, now of all the times? The past was past and there was no need to remember it. Otherwise I could curl up on the floor and start sobbing right away. Time does not heal all wounds, and I could've personally decapitated anyone who said it would. Let's see how time heals that wound.

I took my time to observe other surroundings, beside the more immediate one. this certainly did not look like the cave I was captured in, but maybe we had just moved further inside. The small fire was lighting up the small portion where we were camped apparently. I noticed my armor a way off, gleaming in the firelight.

"First you're going to tell me a few things." He hadn't noticed my brief stare. Hopefully.

"I thought you had your way of gathering information." I said derisively.

"There are things that aren't trusted to couriers. Tell me, how goes the war?"

This was an easy one.

"Maybe you should ask your brother. He has been leading all the attacks." I replied, taking no apparent notice of the brief expression of pain on his face. Oooh, it was like toying with fire all over again. Only this time without the gloves.

He wasn't in a good mood after all. "I asked you how goes-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. He is leading the final attack on Windhelm in, uh" I looked at the high cavern ceiling in thought, "about a week."

"Very well." He peered closely at me, "Who is now the First Emissary?"

"Lady Elenwen." I said curtly, keeping my expression bare of emotion.

"Even after the little screw-up with the Dragonborn breaking in and all?" He was now clearly laughing at me. I didn't even answer. After a moment quiet sniggering, he continued the investigation, "On that note, what is the Dragonborn doing?"

"Since we destroyed her stupid guild of thieves and all the other dregs of society she had gathered there, in that rathole of a midden-"

"You're getting carried away." He remarked with a sly smile, "You were involved in that operation, were you not?"

"Yes. She went into hiding. Or so she thinks. But we have information that she is living north of Rorikstead."

He had a far-away look for a moment. He was obviously deep in thought.

"Why do you want to know this?" I asked hesitantly.

"That at this moment is none of your concern, Lady Aineliah."

Fine. Two could play that game, and he was probably long out of practice. I could feel the magicka slowly trickling back, and it was only a matter of time before I released myself and brought him in as a renegade who had threatened the daughter of Lady Elenwen.

Two can play that game, Ondolemar, and I have the rulebook.


	11. Chapter 11

Ondolemar got up and slowly paced behind my back. I had the terrible itch to turn around, and I even felt I was strong enough I might, but no use in blowing my cover now.

"Let's continue with whatever you can tell me about Tullius' plans."

I decided to play dumb. "Well, he has raised the taxes on the Reach for one, and that has annoyed the Jarl to-"

"I mean," he cut me off rather sharply, "has he got plans towards the Thalmor? Surely, he doesn't know who you are?" Again that slight inflection on 'are'.

In an attempt to steer the conversation in a more acceptable way, for me at least, I asked, "Should he? Why should he?"

"Your endeavors and successes in the Academy have made quite a name for yourself. Obviously it has not spread to the," his tone became distinctly disdainful, "humans. I do wonder sometimes..."

"Yes?"

"What made you drop out?"

I laughed. Damn, I was never any good at steering conversations. This elf knew quite well what had made me quit, or at least suspected, and I was certainly not going to admit it to his face. The shame would be unbearable. After a moments careful consideration I said, "I believe this little chat has gone off course."

"Really? Well, never mind then." I couldn't see his expression, but he sounded so insufferably cheeky, I would've carved his face off, if I had my hands free. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Tullius."

"Of course he doesn't know. How could he? No one would tell him, gods only know how you know it." I snapped impatiently.

"And does he know about the Academy?"

"Where are you going with this?" This was really getting suspicious. He just wouldn't let go of the subject. "And come back where I can see you! I'm getting the creeps with you standing behind there, doing gods know what."

He laughed, and it was a pleasant laugh, just like I remembered, but still he strolled back and sat down again in front of me. I instantly regretted my outburst. Now I had to look at him, and it was so ... ugh, I hate myself sometimes.

"That is for later," he said. "Bear with me."

"Oh? Is that so?"

He ignored me, and asked the next question, "Are there many of the Academy staying in the headquarters?"

How was I supposed to know it? Elenwen never informed me about troop movements, and I was never interested enough to ask.

Hmm, yes, the Academy. It was not, strictly speaking, compulsory education - only the richest houses could afford it, really, though among some families 'compulsory' had been redefined as 'for the family honor'. Even more strictly speaking, it did not technically exist. It was a Thalmor academy. Only those with strong magical inclination trained there, and only those who were strong in themselves lived to complete the training. I shuddered and replied to his question, "I don't know. Maybe six at most. Including Elenwen herself, of course."

He looked thoughtful for a minute or so, while I waited and tried to puzzle out whether the news were good or bad for him, but his blank expression never wavered. He suddenly pulled out a dagger, slit the bonds on my feet, got up and dragged me with him. My legs had gone to sleep, so I would have fell down back, if not for his none too gentle grip on my forearms.

And then he did something. He touched my forehead gently, but I felt a shock nevertheless, as the trickle of magicka that had been running for a while now stopped again. It was breathtaking, but in a very unpleasant way, like being dropped in cold water, like stepping on something, that turns out not to be there, and the list could go on and on ... He smiled at my discomfort and explained, rather cockily I thought, "So you don't get any ideas."

Taking away others' magic was strictly forbidden among the orders of mages, like the Synod or the Colleges of Whispers and Winterhold, but still they taught it in the Academy. They said the ability was a blessing from Magnus himself - the god of sorcery, to which all enrolled were dedicated. I never learned it. It felt somehow wrong. For mages, blocking access to magic, even if temporary was like cutting off a warrior's arms. Such a terribly helpless feeling. The teachers frowned upon me for this decision, and mother had been very cross with me, but even if I was bred Thalmor, I refused to be bred evil.

I had been left in my light tunic - metal is awfully cold by itself, and now that he was moving me further away from the fire I began to shiver. One does not fully appreciate magic until it has gone. Even without spells and certain racial abilities, it protects the body against the elements of nature.

Ondolemar rummaged in a pack laying beside my armor and produced a warm cloak, which he draped around my shoulders. He didn't untie my hands though, so I was not in a mood to appreciate the sentiment.

He then left the fire burning, slung the pack on his back and pushed me towards an opening which I surmised was the exit. I eyed my gleaming, beautiful armor regretfully, but Ondolemar paid no attention, the bastard.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, this time out of genuine concern.

He looked back at me, amusement flickering in his green eyes like flashes of light, "Nothing, at the moment. We are going on a little trip north."

We emerged from the cave, in the chilly, clear night. An aurora was flashing in the sky, and I wasn't scared at all, even bound and without magic, going to an unknown destination, with an elf, who I had a lot of history with, and not always pleasant. Finally something interesting was happening again. It made my blood run again, and those priestesses with their amulets could go to Oblivion.


	12. Chapter 12

Ondolemar prodded me in the general direction of Whiterun. Not that I much cared where we were going, I was more worried about the why. And what for. Hopefully I was not going to be made his personal slave in the manner of 'finally a basement, and a collar to call my own'.

He made me walk in front, no doubt expecting some stupid stunt to break free, which I would have done, if it weren't him. Though on reflection, there is not much I can do with no magic and my hands bound in front of me at the best of times.

Shame about my armor though. Not that he could've worn it, or at least worn it without looking extremely silly, but it was damn good armor. And now left to rot in some abandoned cave.

Gods, my mind was wandering again. How can metal rot? Well, the moonstone when improperly refined has been known to grow weeds, but this was certainly not the case and not even close.

I stopped my mind thinking silly thoughts, but that left an uncomfortable silence where the background thoughts had been. To fill it again, I turned around without missing a step and asked Ondolemar, "Where are we going now?"

He gave me a little smile that, perfectly demure in itself, made me think I was going to be in deep trouble.

When he gave no reply, I stopped walking and stood there until he came closer. Then I made the most menacing expression I could manage and growled, "Well?"

He just grabbed me by my elbow, turned me back the right way and dragged me along roughly. Most unbecoming of him. I jerked free and started again, this time in a chatty conversational tone, "You know, this is not the best way to make friends."

"It's not friends I'm making, but enemies." He finally said, even though my joy at having coaxed an answer from him was rather spoiled by the enigmatic content of the answer itself.

I was not going let go so easily, mostly because I was bored. "Better not get carried away. I can make a fearsome enemy." I said with the most cheerful of tones.

"You? I am not at this point concerned about you." He didn't even bother to look at me when he said this. Really, the nerve. I might keep my lineage a secret, but I was still a force to be reckoned with, whenever I could be bothered to do something forceful.

"What's that supposed to mean? Since you kidnapped me, you should be very concerned about me. I'm getting a little hoggish already." I grinned to myself. The last elf who had tried to kidnap and ransom me had let me go two days later with all his gold and weapons.

"Hoggish? I think you're fat enough already, dear."

I was taken aback and affronted at the same time, which left not much space at all. I wasn't fat! Only ... healthy. Very much so. If I had been human, I would be called skinny. Really, I ought to smack the bastard, and I would have with delight, if I was sure I would get my hand back in the same shape.

So to prevent unnecessary injury to us both and possibly also any miscellaneous wildlife nearby, I let this pass and asked the next question, "How long have you been following me, and don't say you just happened upon me, because it is completely impossible."

"You flatter yourself. I haven't been following you, as you are only a means to an end. I simply learned of your location and used the opportunity to acquire you."

"Unkind. Without the means you will never get to the end. Next question - why do you need me so?"

"That is not open for discussion."

"I didn't plan on discussing it." I tried making my voice less angry, but really, how is one supposed to behave when kidnapped? "Discussion implies arrangements, agreements and accords. I want to know."

"You don't need to at this time. Remember, your cooperation is appreciated, but not strictly necessary."

That gave me pause. Not the thinly-veiled threat itself, but the rather naughty images my mind conjured up for me. I hurriedly drove them away - not that he could read minds, but you never know.

Ondolemar didn't seem to notice my moment of thought, or possibly he was thanking the gods for the silence. I decided not to push my luck anymore and stayed silent.

We walked in a fast pace, and it was just before dawn crawled her rose fingers up the canvas of the sky, that we got to the crossroads to Falkreath, where, instead of following the main road to Whiterun as I had expected, Ondolemar pushed me south, to the little 'Graveyard Town'.

I had been to Falkreath once, and once was plenty for one lifetime - although, as humans measured, I was in my second, and so due for a visit again. It was a miserable little town, and calling it that was a mercy, since it was no more than a dozen houses, not sprawling through the wilderness as a city should, but clustered together for warmth in the middle of the woods.

Then again, we might not be going to the village, but maybe to some secret hide-away. He must have lived that year somewhere. I almost asked the question out loud, but thought better of it, and when I looked back, my musings were confirmed - his set-jawed expression promised if not death, then certainly as near as you could get to it, for obnoxious questions.

My stomach rumbled loudly, and I cursed it immediately. Here in the silent woods, with only our footsteps on the cobbles heard, it sounded loud enough to attract any nearby predators. Normally it never got the chance, but dinner had been little, and I had been walking all night.

Just as I thought that, I noticed how tired I really was. Not that I was going to fall over, I mean, the adrenaline from all the excitement was probably enough to keep awake a herd of mammoths. And I would never live down falling asleep on Ondolemar. He wouldn't let me either.

Just like the old times. I smiled to myself.


	13. Chapter 13

In the Academy we were expected to settle our own problems. That meant no running to the teachers if someone picked on you. Homicide was frowned upon only if done messily and without style. The tests and trials were designed to bound people together, to form relations and make us understand life. The teachers didn't much care what we did, or who we did it with, so long as we turned up for the skill examinations.

That's how I met Ondolemar. We were a group of five - the cream, as it were. Hardly children at the average age of about fifty, we still pulled pranks on the students of the more common variety. We laughed about stupid teachers and generally hung around together and occasionally got drunk on the finest wines Alinor could offer.

We didn't love each other. How could anyone love someone as snobbish as him? It wasn't even the default racial things that humans credited to us. He took his vanity up to another level. We just had a ... thing. A physical thing.

And then one day I caught him with my best friend. Not that I was jealous, just a little upset. So I dropped out and went to help mother with her work, which largely entailed getting rid of undesirables until the war started. But that's an entirely different story.

Nothing disturbed us on the track as we walked. The landscape bathed in golden sunlight which gradually became whiter, so unaccustomed to me after the endless mists and fogs of the Reach. As the sun rose higher I asked him to take back the cloak, so hot it was getting. We walked on still, passing a mill on the way, until I was almost dragging my feet and feeling generally tired, thirsty and fed up with walking in the beating sunlight.

Half an hour after we passed the mill, I spotted a moderately comfortable looking log in the shade under a bristling pine tree and went and sat down against it unceremoniously. Ondolemar stopped and looked at me incredulously. I glanced up at him and yawned deliberately. "What?"

"What are you doing? We have to go." He insisted, despite looking a bit rough around the edges himself.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "We? What do you mean, we? Last I checked I was still a captive. I am tired and I want something to eat and a good sleep. I'm only sticking around to see what mad plan you are going to pull off."

He puffed an exasperated breath and sat down beside me. He did look very tired close-up. Even though I didn't want to admit it, I still got the butterflies in my stomach from him close presence. Seventy years had done little to mar his looks, not to mention my very graphic memory.

I slowly laid my head back onto the log, not caring at the moment what dreadful things might get caught in it. My eyelids just fell and unimportant little thoughts about butterflies and birds singing lazily crawled across my mind. Next thing I knew, I was being shaken roughly by Ondolemar, who was kneeling in front of me with a concerned look about him.

I grunted and yawned again, and feebly tried to push him away, which wasn't easy to do with bound hands. "Yes, yes, I'm alive and awake. What is it?"

"Come, we have to go. You've had your rest." And he was up in an instant, all apprehension wiped from his face.

"Would you mind?" I stretched my hands towards him, and he in turn promptly jerked me to feet. Getting up with bound hands without help is a rather kinky affair, with much turning over and inching one's posterior upwards. I was certainly not going to do this to Ondolemar's face, especially since I had a suspicion he'd pinch it.

"How long did I sleep?" I asked more for something to say as we stepped on the road again.

"Half and hour. I was starting to get worried."

"Oh, how sweet of you."

"Don't get sappy. You might be a means to an end, but you're the only means to that particular end, so I don't intend to lose you in any way."

A particular means, eh? That would surely mean something to do with Elenwen. But we were going the entirely wrong way then. Unless he was thinking something entirely different.

It was time for me to get a little freedom. "Now I have to see this through," I began enthusiastically, "and if I promise not to run away, will you take these off?" I raised my still bound hands. "They're starting to chafe." Actually, the binds had stopped chafing long ago. Now there was just a damp numbness, interrupted by brief flashes of sharp pain.

He looked at me with a scrutinizing look, but must have decided I was harmless enough, since in a second a knife appeared out of nowhere in his hands, and after a moment the binds fell away revealing sore skin and angry, red welts. The elf raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. "Starting to chafe?"

I made a grimace at him, resisting all temptation to massage the wrists, which would have surely resulted in screaming. Once I get my hands on something sharp, he will regret not telling me everything.

He made a grab for my arms, a healing spell flashing to life in his palms, but I avoided him, mumbling, "I'll be fine." I never liked the touch of others' magic. It felt like something greasy, like metal on the tongue, cold and foreign. He gave me another hard stare and shoved me forward.

Altmer are considerably more resilient than the other races give us credit for. Even tired as we both were, we made it to Falkreath a few hours before sundown. The pitiful little town's residents were just as pitiful, scurrying on their various jobs and tasks, hardly giving us a glance. Some of the guards did give us strange looks, but no one stopped us.

Ondolemar guided me to what looked to be the town's only inn - Dead Man's Drink. How depressing, I thought. As we passed the alchemy shop I'd noticed the name of that place too - Grave Concoctions. Hardly inviting. The whole place seemed to be stuck in the past, living off death. I didn't even bother to understand, what was this strange piece of epiphany my mind had thrown up again.

As we stepped in the inn, Ondolemar instantly looped an arm around my waist, and in my shock, almost half-dragged me to the counter, where he wasted no time in greeting the pleasant-faced innkeeper and saying, "Your best room please, and a meal, for me and the lady."

Oh, by the Eight, what's got into him? I nearly screeched most unbecomingly and resisted an urge to untangle myself. While I was reasoning with myself whether to slap him here and now, or wait for some privacy, Ondolemar pulled a pouch full of gold from somewhere in his armor and paid the innkeeper. Then he guided me to the nearest table, where a buxom tavern wench was already serving our meal.

No one else was too bothered about us. The men drinking were probably the town's residents, in for some relaxation. A dreary place like this could hardly attract visitors at the best of times, and there were almost no travelers now with the rebellion and everything. Except for us of course.

We ate in silence, as I had resolved not to speak, as it would most likely have resulted in screaming and violence. When we finished and got to the room though, I was in for a surprise.

"What is this?" I asked pointing to the terrible thing in the middle of the floor as soon as the door had been closed, "And what was all ... all that, outside?" I gestured in the general direction of back at the main room.

"It would have been suspicious if I asked for one room for both of us without 'all that'." Ondolemar mimicked my gesture with an annoying look of smugness. "I need to keep you under watch, as you surely understand is appropriate in the circumstances."

"And that?" I pointed again insistently at the abomination. "You expect me to sleep in the same bed as you?"

"Why all the shock? If I remember correctly, you used to do it with much satisfaction and shall I say, 'whim and vigor'?" Oh, he was just unbearable.

I snapped my open mouth shut, took off my boots and pounded my way across the room, where I climbed into the bed without bothering to take the clothes off. I heard Ondolemar chuckle, a rustling, and a moment later the blanket moved as he slid in beside me.

However, my rage couldn't keep me awake forever, and soon I let my mind drift off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

I cracked open an eye. My wrists were throbbing terribly and my head was pounding most was even worse, I felt like freezing solid. I had snuggled up to Ondolemar, who was laying on his back in a vain attempt to preserve heat. He on the other hand looked perfectly at ease, even snoring slightly.

The room's only little rag-covered window was dark, so it must be night still. What had woken me up? There was no one else in the room, that I was sure of. Magic users over the years tend to develop an ability to sense presence, not unlike the Detect Life spell, but far more intrinsic to the very nature of magic than any man or mer-made spell could ever be.

Then it hit me. Of course I woke up. It wasn't the throbbing of my injured hands, or the cold night of spring in Skyrim, or a sound from outside. My magic was back.

I rolled carefully out of the bed and padded bare-foot across the cold stone floor. Gods, the place was so poor they couldn't even afford a proper rug. I stayed hunched low, fearing discovery. The door hadn't been even locked, so I slipped out off the room and closed it behind me just as quietly.

The counter was manned by a scruffy, dirty youth, not the chatty innkeeper of before. He was cleaning mugs lined in front of him with a rag that looked to have seen not better days, but better centuries. I just asked for a mug of mead, well, actually, I asked for wine, but the stuff is obviously too posh to be in a little rat-hole like this, and I sat down to think. There was no one else here, the men gone back to their homes, and us the only visitors today.

First I tested my magic, and indeed it was back, not anymore the meager trickle, but like it should be - like a river coursing through my veins. The bruises on my wrists healed perfectly.

I could run of course. Gods know how easy it would be now. Ondolemar asleep, my magic back. It didn't even matter that I had no money. In such a poor hold, there were bound to be plenty of bandits to loot.

I stared reflectively into the smoldering embers of the hearth in the middle of the common room. _He_ surely knew I could escape and still had made no precautions. Foolish, maybe, but fools did not survive the Academy.

I was the means to an end. Me particularly. That surely must've meant something concerning mother. Assassination? Did he want to be First Emissary? Did he expect me to help him in that regard? If so, then why had we come here?

Too many unanswerable questions. I smiled to myself. There was no better place to spy from, than stay here, or wherever Ondolemar was going to go next. This was so much better than the humdrum of Markarth. So many possibilities of excitement.

I had to figure out how to keep him from blocking me again. He probably wouldn't let anything happen to me, but without magic I was about as helpless as a beached whale. And that could be extremely helpless indeed. I once saw one slowly torn apart and eaten by mudcrabs, while on holiday. A horrible sight.

Well, actually, we made bets on how fast the little buggers would do it, and then marked our chosen mudcrabs and pitted them against one another. Good fun it was too.

The door banged open in a shower of sparks, making me almost choke on my mead and the bartender to jump. Ondolemar dashed out, threw a look around the room, saw me and stopped in his tracks with a little 'oh'.

I couldn't help but start laughing, as he plodded towards me, himself with a little sheepish grin. I moved over on the bench and set my half-drained mug in safety on the table. Ondolemar sat down.

"Did you think I'd run away?" I asked with an amused grin.

"Yes. And no. You always were hard to read," he answered.

"Well, if I ran, I'd have to go back to Markarth. Nothing is worse than those beds."

He appeared to think for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think you might be right. Or then again, sleeping bound head to toes would be worse. If you vanish like this again-"

"Oh, you're no fun at all." I groaned. It had been going so well. "I just couldn't sleep, so I came to get a drink. Besides, you snore."

"Not half as much as you." He smirked back at me.

"I certainly do not!" I exclaimed indignantly.

He grabbed my hand and inspected it closely, then without another word made a swing for my forehead. The bastard.

I ducked, sliding off the bench ungracefully, then scrambled to my feet, and backed to the other side of the hearth, as Ondolemar got up too. I waved to the bartender, who looked to be ready to grab an axe, "Don't worry, just a domestic disturbance." I turned back to Ondolemar and continued, "Alright, I promise not to run away, or attack you, or turn you to the guards, or tell anyone about who we are, or contact ... mother, or whatever." I finally drew a long breath, "Just don't do that. Deal?"

Ondolemar inspected his nails casually and said, "You forgot poison."

"Oh, unfair! That was just one time, and it hadn't even been meant for you!" I truly had every reason to be affronted, since we five had made a pact never to speak of this again. "But, well? Do we have a deal?"

"Very well. Now come back to sleep." When I raised my eyebrows in no uncertain way, he continued with an irritated sigh, "And when I say sleep, I mean sleep." He was just that easy to like.

On our way back to the room he threw a coin for the boy and whispered something to him, probably stopping the rumors about the very strange couple before they could start.

Sleep came more easily this time.


	15. Chapter 15

I was prodded sharply in my ribs, which is a terrible way to be woken at any circumstances and even more so in a room, that might just be colder than the day outside. I tried fruitlessly to burrow deeper in the blankets, but they were cruelly snatched away, and I had no other choice but to open my eyes groggily to an overly amused Ondolemar, and shout as loud as I could, "GIVE ME BACK THE BLANKET AND LET ME SLEEP, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD!"

Ondolemar dodged my attempt to decapitate him with a thrown pillow, tossed the warm cloak I wore yesterday to me, and set the blankets on a chair beside the door. And just stood there, arms crossed, and watched as I rolled out of the bed, pulled on my boots and fastened the cloak around my neck.

"What's the time?" I asked casually, as he followed me into the full common room. There seemed to be some manner of commotion, a few people were talking to the innkeeper in hushed, excited tones, and a few more were talking in a group beside the lit fire.

"It will be dawn soon. We must move." He gave me such a commanding look, that all the protestations about how ungodly early it was froze in my throat.

We ate not talking to each other, but the noise around was still deafening. More people rushed in, guards with garbled accounts of an attack. There seemed to be disagreement about how many were killed. Some said there were only injured, other argued that at least five guards had been killed. Ondolemar was not forthcoming of what had happened, save for another demand to finish eating and go, and all I could do was listen in at snatches of conversations. Obviously, this was more or less the most interesting thing that had happened here in a generation. But people in panic are about as reliable and truthful as a swarm of bees, so I didn't hear anything that made sense.

When I was finally almost half-dragged by Ondolemar away, we exited the inn to an even bigger scene of disarray. A few paces to the gate there was a large crowd. Ondolemar dragged me right past it, but I managed to get a glance over the heads of other people. There were a few corpses and an ashpile, bearing the residue of magic, that signaled of a 're-used' corpse. Two of the corpses still intact were unmistakably vampires.

It was the dark just before dawn, but I doubted as we walked in silence, that the sun will ever be seen through this freezing mist. It was hard to see anything more than 20 feet away, in stark difference from the wonderfully sunny day it had been yesterday.

Ondolemar took the road that led us to Helgen. The ruined outpost could hardly be his destination, so I had to deduce he was going to the mountain pass, past Haemar's Shame, and into the Rift.

"Where are we going?" I asked, as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

"To a place, where I stayed. I still have to ... tie down some loose ends."

"Would 'tie down' be anything related to ... nooses?" I asked in a lighter tone.

"A noose usually means the criminal is left with a neck."

That peaked my curiosity, even though the elf's answers gave even more questions. "A criminal? You're a bounty hunter?"

"A hunter, yes. But criminal is also hardly the right word for those monsters."

"Oh, come now, can't you be a little more forthcoming?" He graced this with no answer, so I was left to puzzle it on my own. "You mean vampires?"

"Yes."

I gritted my teeth and shook my head reproachfully. He usually wasn't this silent, or enraged, or whatever he was now. I couldn't understand how could one deal with vampires, though. They were more like a plague, never exactly dying out, but still, eventually quelled until they sprang up again. They had their hiding-holes, their thrall's, who supplied cattle, and the occasional drink. They were never out in the open, where they could be stopped completely.

It was a bleak journey, and we were an hour short of midday, though who could tell in this mist, when we arrived at the gates of Helgen. Corpses still littered the ground after all this time, though some looked considerably more fresh than the charred ones. There were remnants of a few burned down houses, but the Imperial-built towers and walls still stood high, if somewhat smoke-blackened and crumbled around the edges.

Ondolemar took us right through, to the other gate, not sparing even a glance to the destruction around, and down the path I had predicted.

I remembered though, how mother had told me about the day the World-Eater attacked. She had been here, to witness the death of Stormcloak. She escaped in the very beginning, while the Imperial soldiers led a futile attempt at killing the dragon. She told me about the half-breed chit of a girl, saved by Alduin from the executioners axe, later to kill the monster herself after the strangest of journeys, that took her through the Embassy, killing most of the guards in the process, and stealing a number of classified files. I had no occasion to be in that fateful party, since my ancestry was a well-kept secret.

The road was empty as we walked, save for a peddler on a horse and a hunter chasing after a deer. It got even colder as we climbed higher, snow replaced green grass, and our breath turned to misty white puffs in the air. I tugged the dark green cloak closer and wondered how come he didn't get cold.

By the time it should have been two hours after midday, but really how can you tell in this mist, the path finally sloped downwards and we began our descent. I chuckled at how strange it sounded in my mind. Descent. I was sure I had read a book called 'Descent of the Gods' sometime.

We passed the cave, Haemar's Shame, its entrance littered with broken carts, pots and pieces of furniture. Who in the world drags all that stuff up here?

It was hard to remember, what I had promised in the night. My tired mind had played hide-and-seek with my common sense, obviously. Did I promise him not to contact mother? I must've, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed. No ratting out to the guards there was too, right? Oh, gods, please give me back my memory. All of it.


	16. Chapter 16

As soon as the heavy door clanged behind us, a rather short and gray-faced, but pretty Altmer woman clad in the same heavy armor came hurrying towards us. Her delighted expression however fell to a puzzled frown when she tore her hungry eyes from Ondolemar and looked at me.

Then I heard heavy footsteps somewhere up, and looked up in time to see a flood of brilliant white light that seemed to sear though my eyes and make a mush of my brain.

"There was no need for that-" Ondolemar began, but a deep voice with a peculiar accent cut him off.

"I decide that. But it seems she is clean." The light dimmed to a more normal hue, and I could see my surroundings again. We were in a circular room with multiple openings and a hole in the roof. On the ledge to the right of us a beautiful Nord woman was sitting. And I instantly envied her armor, so wonderfully done in leather, with elaborately worked metal ornaments. She rose too, to presumably greet Ondolemar, but stopped at the sight of my expression. As if one hussy intending to flap herself at Ondolemar at the first chance wasn't enough, and this one looked suspiciously happy.

I mentally slapped myself. The dreaded jealousy was cutting in again. What in the world could a Nord vampire want with him, apart from possibly her next meal?

We had arrived in the dead on night. When we had finally reached Riften, I was already tired enough to fall off my feet, but when Ondolemar continued walking right past the gate and continued on a little track right into the wilderness, I almost erupted into teary wailing, and complained until Ondolemar agreed to carry me while I got a little rest. He nudged me awake in front a of what looked like a cave, and set me on my feet again, but when we entered it proved to be a canyon of sorts. The mist had cleared, though the sky was still overcast, and we walked past a half-frozen waterfall, staying on a little path that seemed no more than animal tracks, but then the foundations of a magnificent fort revealed themselves in a hazy torchlight.

Fort Dawnguard.

A few guards of sorts, wearing armor I had never seen before, nodded greetings to Ondolemar as we walked past. There was even a little camp, a tent and a few bedrolls, occupied by people who had the look of farmers about them.

The man, a Redguard, climbed down some hidden stairs and emerged from the opening on our left. He strode, no, more like stalked up to us and gave me a scrutinizing look. "You might just do."

Do? What would 'do' for? As I was opening my mouth in protest and finally demand some answers, Ondolemar nudged me sharply in the ribs, and said, "It is late. Aineliah is tired, and so am I. We will talk more in the morning."

And I was prodded to the common bedchamber with promises to explain everything and introduce everyone in the morning. Which was regretfully near.

The beds were not even beds at all, just sort of pellets raised pieces of wood and covered with furs. They were soft, however, and the fire blazing in the pit warmed the stone chamber very well. It wasn't too long until I fell into sleep troubled by fanged monsters and dragons with butterfly wings.

I jerked awake from a dream where a vampire was chewing at my neck. Damn him, this all is Ondolemar's fault.

"Are you alright?" A pleasant Breton woman peered at me. She looked to have been just going away, but I had probably startled her in passing. As I nodded, she continued, "You're Aineliah, right? I'm Sorine. Ondolemar is in the ... well, kitchen."

As I entered the chamber right on her heels, I saw the reason of hesitation. It, like all the other room's was converted hastily. There was a cavern just behind the next opening. There were three people at the table, one of them Ondolemar, the others a scarred Orc, and an extremely large Nord. Sorine passed through to the cavern, and moment later I heard the pounding of metal on metal.

As I sat down, Ondolemar set a plate of food in front of me, and I realized just how hungry I had been. I dug in, listening as the men talked of discovered vampire lairs, discussed methods of disposing of bodies, how to better catch vampires masquerading as honest citizens and so forth. Their conversation was brought to a stop when the same Redguard man from yesterday came to the table and sat down with a bottle of ale.

Again he turned to me an unreadable look, and said, "Ondolemar tells me good things of you. A master of Destruction, among other schools, a good fighter. Good, good. You will do nicely."

As politely as I could manage at the circumstances I asked, "I will do as what exactly?"

The look the Redguard gave me was more surprised than I expected. He replied, "Ondolemar told us of someone who could help us defeat the vampires, so we sent him to recruit you."

Then I rose slowly from the table, and with all eyes on me, turned to Ondolemar. My body shaking as I tried to control my anger, I said to him, "_Recruiting_? Is this what you bloody call _recruiting_? You KIDNAPPED me! WHAT IN THE TWENTY REALMS OF OBLIVION POSSESSED YOU TO DO SUCH A THING?" I slowly calmed down, aware of sniggers behind me.

Ondolemar certainly looked like he hadn't expected such a result, but it was the Redguard, who spoke. "Kidnapped? I was assured that you will come willingly."

"I was never presented the question." I turned to Ondolemar again, "And what was all that about 'a means to an end' and so on?"

Ondolemar looked as if he was trying to squirm his way off the bench and away from the hall. "Well, I, um ... look, can't we just talk about this later?"

The Redguard spoke to me again, "This was never intended. We need recruits, strong recruits, and Ondolemar suggested you. If you don't want to join us, girl-"

I cut him off, "I will think about that. And I am most certainly older than you, _boy._"

I stalked away to the door, only to be stopped half-way by the Altmer chit. I had no time for her now, so I snarled in hushed tones at her, "You keep away from Ondolemar. He's _mine._"

I pushed open the great doors and stepped out in the searing sunlight.


	17. Chapter 17

I paced in thought, under the great overhang the fort made connecting to the towers. Not about my current dilemma - that could wait until I was ready to even think about Ondolemar without kicking a hole in whatever was beside me.

Rather I thought about the enthusiasm of some people, sometimes called homicidal determination to do good to the world. This handful of people, some of which looked more keen, than trained, this handful decided they were going to stop the vampire menace. Really. Well, I suppose it's commendable in a sort of pig-headed way. And Ondolemar had joined them, the bastard...

Oh, gods, there I go again.

The morning was bright and sunny, complementing on the name of the place - Dayspring Canyon. I walked slowly down the track, enjoying my surroundings. I couldn't help but compare them with Markarth. All the smelters and silverworks, and forges made the sky perpetually foggy in the Reach, but here the air was clear and smelled considerably better.

I could never run, could I? Not now, not even now. Ondolemar was far too important to me, more than I would admit even to myself. And it was a rather common among the humans, that men did strange things when in the presence on women they fancied. Maybe some humanity had rubbed off on Ondolemar. I smiled to myself, so ridiculously flattering the thought was.

I had to see this through because all else I had was a life with no spark in it.

I sat down in the shade of one of the great towers. The little flowers in front of me must really be regretting their choice of space, I thought as I plucked the blue petals apart, or would have if flowers could think.

What stupidity was this? There were plenty of good mages even in Skyrim, hopelessly Nordic the place was. Why did they have to get me? It was damned Ondolemar again. He had orchestrated this whole mad thing. I really should leave.

Stupid feelings. I must've caught them from the humans, like a disease. They sometimes are so pitifully emotional creatures.

I smiled as a plan formulated in my mind. I knew just how to sort this out.

As I entered the fort again, there was not exactly screaming from the kitchen, but certainly a lot of noise. I flinched as I heard something break. Multiple voices were expressing their thoughts at cross-purposes. One of them was certainly Ondolemar's. I sniggered in a not very sympathetic way. Whatever we were, the Thalmor were not compassionate.

The shouting ceased once I had entered the room. Well, it took more than that actually, and the shouting stopped once I threw an extremely large fireball at the high stone ceiling, where it exploded, raining dust and dirt on the arguers and leaving a black scorch-mark.

"Girl, if you're going to destroy my fort, you better pay for it too," said the Redguard, to whom I still hadn't been introduced.

I eyed him suspiciously but decided it was no time for squabbles, and I should just cut to the chase. I am a master of Destruction after all. "What is happening here? What is that great thing you need me for?"

"We are going to assault the Volkihar castle." The man said, and at that point my hearing all but shut off. "Vampires are extremely susceptible to fire, so you will be our asset."

Volkihar vampires. The idiot man thought he could destroy a whole castle full of them. I leaned over the table and began in my best serious voice. "Are you mad? Do you even understand what you want to do? The Volkihar are legendary. You will not even see them until they sink their fangs in your throat, and after that is isn't going to matter. Their poison is deadly. They are not some half-breed fledglings, crazy for blood. They have control, tactics, skill, abilities your mind couldn't even comprehend."

When I stopped silence boomed through the halls. Even the forge was now quiet, and I had gathered a little crowd of listeners. But it wasn't any of them who spoke, it was the vampire woman. "Legends have a tendency to grow over time. We indeed have skills normal vampires lack, but they are not as great as you're trying to say. I mean," Here her voice took on a ridiculously dramatic tone, "our very breath can't freeze their victims' blood in the veins. We don't live under ice lakes. We can't reach through ice without breaking it. It's all ... silly nonsense invented by extremely scared people."

I really was taken aback for a moment, but rallied, "And what of the other form? Is the rumours of that false too? Aren't you the lords of all vampires?"

"Well, okay, there is that. But don't worry about it, most vampires are never strong enough to actually change."

The crowd started to disperse, remembering they had other things to do. We were left alone, me, Ondolemar, the Redguard and the vampire. I sat back on the bench. "Well, maybe we have a chance then." I turned to the vampire again. "And if I'm not mistaken, you are indeed one of the Volkihar, and an old one at that. What are you doing here helping your natural enemies?"

The woman proceeded to tell me, with interjection from Ondolemar, the most ridiculous tale of a prophecy, a monk, a bow, and an absurd quest to get it all. In the end, I was simply sitting there with my mouth open, trying not to scream. Ye gods, the pair went on together bloody everywhere!

"And now we are ready to make the final assault. Free Skyrim from vampires. Will you join us?" the Redguard asked, and I could just hear a spark of hope in those gruff tones.

Oh, yes, how could I not? By all the Divines and Daedra, this was the most fun thing I was going to do in decades! But I had to play this carefully. "Well, supposing there'd be a reward ... I might involve myself in this venture..."

The Redguard extended a hand, which I eyed carefully. After a little awkward pause, he lowered it again and said, "Welcome to Fort Dawnguard. I am Isran, the leader. We leave at nightfall." And he marched off, shouting commands to get ready.

I sniggered. I was back in business - the business of annoying people to the bone.


	18. Chapter 18

We left at nightfall indeed, with Isran shouting to get our lazy asses forward and meet up in Solitude, and if anyone of us chickened out, there'd be hell for that unlucky chicken later.

We were a group of twenty odd, most of them no more than children, but when I saw a pair of scarred Orcs sparring with monstrously big battleaxes my mood lifted a bit. Obviously some here had training, and a good one at that. Though my sense of what age constitutes as 'children' might be warped.

Isran told us to split up in smaller groups, to attract less attention, and I was left with Ondolemar and the vampire, Serana, on the road through Whiterun.

I was wearing a slightly altered copy of Serana's armour. It had been just my luck they had a spare set Ondolemar had apparently picked up in the Volkihar keep on one of their heroic excursions. Once I found out it had a good Regenerate Magicka enchantment, no one had been able to persuade me to get a better set of the Dawnguard armour. Besides, it looked so much better on me.

We kept a good pace and an even better silence. I could almost see all the unspoken words orbiting around Ondolemar's head, strange as it looked, but I didn't say anything. Let him stew.

Serana had assured me in private, while helping me in the armour, that she had no interest in Ondolemar whatsoever, because _eww, he's an elf_ and therefore I could stop staring at her like I was going to rip her head off. We laughed and talked together after that, and it seemed like Serana was a really friendly vampire. I personally had no qualms about that, unlike some of the Dawnguard, who looked at her with open hostility. Any means to an end, and if that end is the eradication of the strongest vampire clan in all of Tamriel, then what the hell.

Not that I was particularly thrilled at the idea. Vampires provide for a fascinating study, especially if one is allowed to play with the insides, and now killing them all seemed like a terrible waste. Maybe I could persuade Isran to let me keep one or two of the bodies, although transportation might be difficult.

I couldn't understand why had Isran insisted we travel at night - it was after all the time when we were most likely to be attacked by vampires, or just about anything that bothered. Even though we three could take down just about anything short of a horde of dragons, most of the others certainly couldn't. Isran was willing to risk half of the party dying on the way. And so what if we were a large group, the vampires were going to find out we're coming sooner or later, if only when we knock on their door.

Not that I much cared. I was certainly not going to die, and I would make sure Ondolemar didn't, though I suspected his thoughts ran in much the same direction. We both had plans for each other. Mine was do drag him on his knees before mother, and his was Oblivion knows what.

The night was as clear as the day had been, and some sort of mist drew in only when we were well past Riften. We planned to eat at Iverstead, where we should get to by dawn.

My snide comment that we ought to drop in the Eastmarch's Imperial camp was turned down with a snort and a grumble. I could see he missed his brother, and even though the very emotion is often void in our race, Ondolemar was struggling against the pull of blood. My comment provoked a question from Serana, or rather a bombardment of questions and soon enough Ondolemar shouted at us to leave him alone and stalked into the bushes off the beaten path with a further grumble that he'd catch us later.

With Ondolemar gone off, Serana turned to me, "What was that about? I just asked him about who Arterion is."

I kicked a rock and thought for a moment before speaking, "That's his brother. Once, a long time ago, they were close. Has Ondolemar ever told you how he came to join the Dawnguard?"

"Well, no, and I never asked. There were more important things to do."

"Oh. Well, most of it is politics, and some strange plan of his. But as I see it, he escaped politics, and instead of coming back to report to the embassy, which is more politics, he joined the Dawnguard and hatched some no doubt maniacal plan involving me and probably more politics."

"That's a lot of politics." Serana laughed, and I laughed with her, because come to think of it, explained so simply it is rather funny. Too bad life is never so simple.

I continued, "But Ondolemar's brother has been like mad after he vanished without a trace. From what I know, Ondolemar practically raised Arterion, Altmer parents being only mildly cool at the best of times. It's always politics."

"Mildly cool?" Serana sounded puzzled. Hers had been downright freezing obviously, but children bond easily under that kind of strain.

I often regretted my lack of siblings, though that was actually mother's responsibility. Later on, when I was old enough, I understood why some dignitaries used to joke, when they had had a drink or nine too much, that Elenwen had made sure of an heir, and then kicked her husband out of the marriage bed. It wasn't even that funny, but politicians never are, especially when drunk.

We walked on chatting about magic and combat, and history and all the other light subjects to take our minds off unpleasant childhoods. She was kind enough even to enlighten me on is the safest way to kill a vampire, which is let someone else do it, while you watch from behind a big rock.

Ondolemar caught us before the crossroads. He joined us in silence, and I could almost smell the embarrassment. Serana could, by the way she wrinkled her nose, but that might have just been my imagination.


	19. Chapter 19

We arrived at Solitude first, which wasn't unusual as we had taken the shortest way. We immediately rented a room at the pub with the atrocious name, and I bunkered down and refused to set my foot outside the room. It was broad sunlight out the window, so Serana kept me company. I was nervous even about Ondolemar going out, even with his face-covering helmet. The city was dangerously close to the embassy, and if any of our agents saw us now, it would be a disaster.

So we stayed in the my room, talking even more, reading, and - after shoving the bed and a few shelves to the side - sparring. Ondolemar had been nice enough to get me a room of my own, and Serana insisted she didn't need one, as she was going to go hunting in the night. I can only speculate what kind of hunting exactly she meant.

Dawnguard members trooped in, in ones and twos. The Winking Skeever was packed by sunset, and Isran was still not here. The innkeeper was a cheerful type though, grinning madly as his trade was booming, telling stories as he passed out the dishes and tankards of mead and ale and wine. A bard played flute in the corner, creating a cozy atmosphere_._ I sat with Serana, crunching down apples as I worried about Ondolemar who was still away. The damned elf had always known how to make me a jittery mass of nerves.

The Dawnguard were far too proud and mixing badly with the locals. I had to break up one fight and prevent another. With the absence of both Isran and Ondolemar, who was technically second in command, most looked up to me, which made me even more jittery. What exactly had Ondolemar told them of our past? Did they think I was his - I shuddered at the very thought - lover? Anyway, how did that make me fit for command?

Or did they just need a scapegoat for when things got really bad and Isran came in asking 'What's this, then?'

Midnight passed, and Serana left. For her hunting I presumed, though I didn't really want to ask. About half of those gathered paid for their rooms and went to sleep, some claimed relatives in Solitude to visit, while others, some of the youngest, who looked even more nervous than I felt, went off to cool their heads.

I too went for a walk eventually, not able to even read a book, much less actually sleep. It was not the nerves of battle, this was pure terror, oozing through my very bones, chilling the spine and making the head spin. I had been mostly brought up by an elderly nurse, who loved telling scary stories at night. Now I knew them for the silly folk tales they were, but the horror had stuck and etched itself on a child mind. A hundred years of blasting to pieces everything that stood in my path had done nothing to dispel it. Even the serene night felt full of hidden terrors. When I finally mistook a pair of torchbugs for glowing eyes, I knew it was time to do something. Which was actually not do something and bloody finally go to sleep.

First I went back to my room and from my bag, restocked at the fort, and fished out a small pouch of money and a few lockpicks.

Breaking into the alchemy shop took next to no effort, and even though I'm not the best sneak, no one in the silent shop stirred. I ruffled through the supplies and found plenty of ingredients for a potion of sleep. Brewing the potion without noise was a bit harder, but I managed it even so. Then I wrote out a list of ingredients I had taken, a note of apology stating my dire necessity, and left it on the counter along with the gold. I was nothing if not brought up to be polite.

My sleep was filled with nameless terrors I mostly forgot once the first ray of light shone through the window and woke me, but the dreams and nightmares alike still left a queasy feeling in my stomach and a ravaging headache that resisted even the strongest healing spells.

The restless sleep left me wishing for human, or more precisely, elven contact, anything to assure me something still existed in this world other than pain and terror, and fire, and death. And so, when I blundered down the stairs to the common room, the haughty Altmer Beleval was not who I wanted to meet. I was thinking somewhere along the lines of 'Ondolemar isn't so bad, come to think of it' and her presence was something of a letdown. Still, she only glared at me briefly, instead of throwing herself at me and clawing my face off, which was a relief after one particular dream.

"Where is everyone?" I asked. This was not trying to make conversation, and once I got my answer, I was going to go away from her.

"Sleeping. Isran and Ondolemar came in the night and said we will go three hours after dawn."

Fine, fine. That left me with two and a half hours of nothing to do. I resolved myself to be patient and went to Serana's room. She was in, staring distractedly out the window. Something was obviously bothering her, and I thought I knew what it was.

"Will you have to kill him?" I asked closing the door behind me. The vampire didn't flinch at the noise - she surely must've smelled me before I even entered the room.

"I didn't even let myself think of it before. But yes, deep down I knew it would be so. He's just too out of control, too taken with that prophecy."

She sounded as if talking to herself, just thinking aloud, but that was certainly the answer to my question. I imagined my mother - always a bit distant and cold, but still family, and we were taught family above everything. To kill my mother was unthinkable.

I tried to lift Serana's mood by chatting about unimportant things, like the best spells, good books, and the like, and she gave in finally and became the cheerful vampire she usually was. The two hours were passed before we knew it and it was time to go.

This time we went all together in a tight group, with the sun shining brightly overhead. Nervous silence is the worst thing that can happen to a group marching to meet the enemy. I had to do something, not to let these people contemplate all the terrible ways they could die.

I began slowly and quietly under my breath, "There was once a hero named Ragnar the Red..."

Serana joined in with a knowing smile, and the Orc next to us listened in and started to crow along in his deep growl, "...who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead..."

Isran nodded encouragingly, and though he himself didn't sing, a pair of Nords took up the familiar tune, "...and the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade..."

My singing voice usually sounded more of a screeching voice, but it didn't matter. When we got to the end of the song I was drowned out in the surrounding noise of about twenty people singing at various pitches and tunes, and in one case what sounded like an entirely different song. We marched along with renewed spirits, and now I didn't fear so much - what could I fear that was worse than the sound of two dozen untrained people singing more poorly than a cow could dance?


	20. Chapter 20

The castle towered before us, not a vast expanse of frills and colour with bits of fancy architecture stuck on top, but a fortress. I couldn't see a way in unless they let us in. They might, if they were as arrogant as Serana had said. That was because they didn't know what we had.

The sky had overcast, and the waters rippled all around, dark grey and cold. A wind was picking up here, and it was my nerves, not the cold, making me shiver. The wait was always the worst, though, as an old warrior had once told me, the worst part was when the enemy came up from nowhere and cut your head off, so on second thought waiting wasn't the worst. Difference was, when your head was cut off, you didn't have to wait anymore.

When we arrived at the little jetty with a single boat, Isran produced a long package, wrapped in cloth, and gave it to Ondolemar. The elf unwrapped it reverentially and revealed to us all a bow sparkling with power. My enthusiasm was somewhat dampened when I learned it was Auriel's bow. I would have expected it to be shinier. Ondolemar laughed heartily when I told him this, but refused to elaborate.

The boat would take only four at a time, but no vampires came out to fight as we were left on the shore in small groups. The portcullis wasn't even lowered and stood invitingly open.

We walked, because, really, there wasn't anything to charge at, but we walked carefully, with weapons drawn and my hands full of sparks. That was until a pair of vampires appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and the gargoyles on the bridge came to life.

Some of the young ones looked eagerly towards me as the gargoyles clashed into our ranks, no doubt waiting to see the famous Destruction skills. But a sensible mage didn't go head-first into the battle - all the insensible ones were dead. I drew a Circle of Protection around me. That was a simple spell that any half-way decent mage knew and was a great help when dealing with undead. The Dawnguard fighters ducked in and out of it, to heal and get a breath, then charge back in the fray, while the gargoyles that tried to enter it ran away, howling and screaming, burning with the light of life. Meanwhile I and two archers - a small Imperial and a wiry Bosmer - bombarded the enemy with arrows, fire and frost.

The fight was surprisingly easy, thanks to my magic and I was starting to wonder if it really would be so simple.

Would it?

...

It had been twenty minutes. Then forty. Then an hour. Still the door stood locked, and all the while sound of combat came from within. Most had left already, wowing to get drunk at the first opportunity, trying to forget the thing they saw here. The bodies and the blood. I tried to heal some of the thralls in the dungeon, but they resisted. I paced and I took everything of value, I picked open every lock I could find, I burned the bodies of the dead vampires, and when even that lost it's charm, I forged a simple steel circlet at the blacksmith's room. I even enchanted it. Nothing could calm me. Isran sat all the while on the stairs, seemingly engrossed in some strategy book. Durak sharpened his weapons and mended his armour. Beleval stayed too, to my everlasting dismay, and occupied herself with alchemy. Ingjard nailed one body that she managed to salvage from my bonfire to the wall and practiced her marksman skills on it. Everyone could find something to do. They were well accustomed to waiting.

I wasn't. I have always been dreadfully impatient, but this time was the worst. It was those damned feelings again - they were like springs. The harder you pushed them down, the faster they hit back again, and when they hit, oh, didn't they just.

We lost four of our numbers, because there is nothing even the best mage can do when a vampire practically tears out the victim's throat. Still, the losses were smaller than Isran had expected, and I was proud to know it was because of me.

There came a scream echoing through the castle, the dying scream of a creature so twisted even Oblivion refused to take it. I looked up from my seat on the stone floor where I had been watching Durak work with the forge. He looked up as well, dropping his tools. He was rather more understanding than I would've expected an Orc to be, and nodded encouragingly.

I raced my way back to where Ondolemar and Serana had went in to fight Lord Harkon. It looked like a little chapel, but dust and ash filled the air, making it smell of death and decay. Isran was talking to Ondolemar and Serana, but I didn't care. I didn't even want to care - I knew. He stood there among the swirling ash, a bit scratched, but whole and alive, and that was all I wanted - him alive.

I ran to Ondolemar, interrupting Isran's speech. Serana moved away, and pulled Isran away too, as I threw my arms around Ondolemar's neck and kissed him.

The kiss took longer than I had expected - the damned elf wrapped his arms around me and pressed even closer when I tried to pull away, but it was a kiss long forgotten and easily remembered again. My thoughts vanished one by one as I tasted the ash and blood on his lips and everything was made right.

Stupid feelings.

We surfaced for air and I saw Serana smiling broadly at us, and Isran looking somewhat embarrassed, and it didn't worry me a bit.

Ondolemar wrapped his arm around me as we left the castle in companionable silence, Beleval trailing behind and scowling. Obviously she'd had the same idea as me - but Ondolemar was mine. I looked behind at her and gave her a winning grin, that I knew would set her teeth on edge.

Isran, who had no sense of the moment or simply didn't care, said, "There is still much to do. Renegade vampires are scattered across all of Skyrim. The fort still needs to be rebuilt fully. Can I count you two amongst my numbers?"

Ondolemar replied, "Yes, after some time, but first we have things to do."

I glanced up at the mountains. It was too far to see, behind a snowy range of rocks, but the Embassy was there. Yes, we definitely had something to do first.


	21. Chapter 21

Serana had almost desperately wanted to stay with me and Ondolemar as we began the hike up the path to the Embassy, but Isran pulled her along with the rest of the left-over Dawnguard, muttering something about not getting involved in 'nasty elven business'. The rest just waved their goodbyes and heartily thanked for my help in all the business of vampire extermination.

The sun slid down behind and overcast horizon, or presumably it did - storm clouds were brewing in the west, obscuring both land and sky in what by the looks of it was a terrible blizzard. Odd for this time of year.

Nothing hindered our walk, except a pack of wolves that ended up as a pack of charred blobs of 'yuck'. It was a good conversation piece though, as most of our talk otherwise centered on Ondolemar still refusing to explain his intentions involving me. It wasn't like the good old times. It never could be. Those times were past and we were different people entirely, but the new times were just as good, if not even better.

Nightfall found us trembling in the freezing blizzard in front of the Embassy gate, where I tried to hit my personal key in the lock with cold, numb hands.

There was not a guard in sight, which was extremely disconcerting. There was one supposed to be at the gate, two more at the main building, one at the guard house and at least four patrolling. I looked at Ondolemar questioningly as the snowflakes fell in stark silence, darkening the evening even more, but he shrugged. Obviously his plan had gone wrong already. Though he probably wouldn't admit it.

I decided to poke my head in the guardhouse first, to see if anyone was there. No sooner had I opened the door there was a scream, which was actually a rather distressed squeak, and a figure bolted towards me. It was a young elf, dressed in a rough tunic and good boots, not more than forty, without the ageless eyes of an elder. I summoned fire, but the girl seeing this threw herself away again, curled up on the floor and started sobbing. It took me a moment to understand what she was saying.

"Pl-, please, please, leave. You must!" It was unpleasant seeing an Altmer in such a miserable state, and generally, we didn't go into such a state. Something had scared the girl terribly.

I knelt down by her, took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me "You will give me no orders, girl. What is it? What has happened?"

"Please, just go! I will arrange matters so you will not have been seen."

"By the Eight, girl, what is it with you? Tell me at once." I glanced at Ondolemar behind me. He was studying the girl curiously, but had not readied for a fight.

"It, it's ... please, don't make me tell you! Please, Lady Aineliah, go!"

This couldn't be good. I pressed her again for information, "So you know who I am, and you know what I can do. So tell me now all that has happened, or I swear to Daedra and Divines I will summon the very monsters of Oblivion to rip you apart for not speaking to me properly!"

Ondolemar sniggered behind us and muttered, "As gentle and caring as I remember."

The girl, wrecked already by sobs and hiccoughs, started crying even harder. I let her go and stood up. Obviously we weren't getting anywhere this way.

As a spell came to my hands, glowing with the eerie light of a hole into Oblivion, the girl quieted and looked up. Her face, young and still fresh, was blotchy and covered with red spots, but her amber eyes showed a spark of understanding.

She stood up too and began speaking quietly in a voice still trembling. "Your mother is dead."

Emotions raged up in me - anger, sorrow, joy - all mixed up, setting unpleasant thoughts coiling in my mind. But I had to keep hold of myself now. Crying could wait until later, as would laughing.

"Oh? Well, that changes matter considerably." I turned to Ondolemar. "What now?"

He shrugged again and made a face, then focused on the girl. "Who is in her place?"

"Mayena. She-"

"Mayena? That way-faced, _glutinous, _OLD BITCH!" I couldn't contain the scream of rage. My mother, my own experienced, smart mother, deposed by that harlot! She wasn't even a proper Academy-trained mage, just some upstart guard with mediocre magical abilities and an enraging ego you could bounce rocks off. Right of birth wasn't practised much in Altmeri rulings, but I should have been First Emissary after my mother ...

No, that's not right. Who was Second Emissary?

Deep in my thoughts, my face had taken on a ruminant expression, but as recollection dawned together with utter disbelief, understanding clicked into place.

"Ondolemar, would you care to step outside for a moment?"

The girl on hearing his name spoke reflectively and more calmly than I would have expected, "I knew working here would be a lot of politics, but I certainly did not expect this. Good luck to you, and I'm off to try my luck as a tavern wench." She slung a pack over her shoulder and sauntered out of the house, grabbing a sweetroll on the way. The change from trembling nerves to perfect composure was extremely disconcerting, but I suppose when serving Thalmor one gets used to the oddities. At the door she turned back to me and added as an after-thought, "And Mayena has put a bounty on your head. Something about 'the right of magic'."

When the door clanged shut, Ondolemar turned to me and grinned. "Do you still want to step outside, or will you try to kill me right here?"

"What ... what is it with you? Did you want to kill my mother? Are you working with that disgusting hussy? What do you want from me?" I prodded him pointedly in the chest. "It's time to come clean."

"Here and now? Where any moment a guard might come in?" The damned elf was right, I was losing my sensibilities.

But what to do now? Go and try to kill Mayena? Sneaking past the guards wouldn't be too hard with all the magic just waiting for my call. And what then? Take control? I didn't want to rule, and most here wouldn't even let me.

I was so deep in my thoughts, too late I noticed the tell-tale pang of magicka summoned, and looked up at Ondolemar just in time to see the green flash of a spell racing towards me. I tried to duck, but it was too late - a paralysis spell hit me full in the chest, and I thudded against the floor, not able to even stand. The fall knocked all the air from my lungs. The door slammed open and guards filed in the room, their armour clanking forebodingly in the silence. A moment later a face appeared in my vision where I was staring at the ceiling. A face I despised. Unbound black locks tickled my face as Mayena pried my mouth open and emptied in it a small flask of thick, slightly salty liquid. Even my boiling emotions couldn't keep me awake, and my consciousness streamed away as the sleeping potion ran down my throat.


	22. Chapter 22

4E 148

Elenwen glared at me across the candle-lit room. I was lounging on a pile of plush pillows while my mother angrily scribbled various documents - orders, letters of credit, private messages. All because of me. The problem is - no one quits the Academy. No matter the rank, skill, birthright. It simply is not done.

"I told you that boy would get you in trouble," Mother spoke again, almost the same sentence for the fifth time.

I sighed and repeated warily, as I had all the last times. "He didn't get me in trouble. There was nothing to do with him. I told you already, headmistress Synare said it would be better if I left after that little accident."

"I know that was his fault." She glanced at me over the edge of a paper she was holding up; there was a smirk in her eyes.

"I simply had a little row with Avaniel." I couldn't help but add in a lower tone, "That nasty bitch. If I see her again, I'll slap seven kinds of snot out of her."

Mother laughed and dropped her papers. "You already did, as I heard it." Her voice grew serious again, not the voice of a mother, but one of an employer, "I will arrange your leaving to be, shall I say, unnoticed. You will join the Thalmor, but not as my daughter. You will start as a spy in the Imperial City. A ship is leaving for the mainland on next Turdas, and you will be on it. Do I make myself clear?"

So that would be my punishment. Banishment. Well, she didn't call it so, and I would probably get a few perks, but the position of a spy in not as high as people would think. The Thalmor have hundreds of them, not only Altmer, but also Khajiiti and Bosmeri sneak-ears, thieves, cut-throats and swappers. I would not be surprised if there were now actually more spies in the Imperial City than real citizens.

I sighed and nodded, "Fine, I guess I have no,-"

Mother interrupted me, "And you'll be a whisper."

"Oh, for Oblivion's sake, mother, couldn't you have found me anything a bit more dignified? I mean, that's practically almost as bad as a slazy!"

She didn't find it necessary to reply. Instead mother got up from her desk and walked over to the door. A chilly breeze swept in, fluttering the candle-flames. She motioned for me to get up and said in an amused tone that set my teeth on edge, "I trust you'll find the way to the barracks yourself."

4E 171

The night was cloudy and hot. Not a gust of wind stirred and the banners hung limply, not a leaf moved on the still trees. The whole week had been like this - humid and windless. People moved lazily, when they bothered to move at all, and even the ever-present street urchins and dogs had lost a bit of their enthusiasm for begging.

I squatted on a flat stone rooftop, waiting. The carriage I was waiting for was bound to roll past any minute now. I could already hear the low rumbling. The emperor's best, most trusted advisor, Aurelia Callus, was returning from a trip to her country estates, right in time to receive the Thalmor ambassador. She had no idea what the declaration would be, and if my night's work proved successful, she never would find out.

I finally glimpsed the carriage on the narrow street some fifty paces away, moving towards the palace. It was drawn by two horses, but the beasts were obviously tired and moved slowly. The coachman looked to be half-asleep himself. Nothing could make my job even more easier.

I waited for the carriage to draw closer, until was almost under my house, then cast three spells in rapid succession. Muffle, ironflesh and invisibility. Then I dropped on the carriage roof. The thump as I landed was quiet and sleepy ears could easily mistake it for a pot-hole. I swung down into the carriage's open window to find the middle-aged woman staring at me wild-eyed. Before she could scream, I paralyzed her and then summoned a bound dagger and slit her throat. The paralysis spell kept her from bleeding to much - there would be no pools on streets and her death would only be discovered when the coachman opened her door.

I waited until a convenient alleyway drew close, then bolted from the still open window out and into it. No one could have possibly noticed it. But still, it was best to leave as soon as possible. Cyrodiil was going to go up soon, and I had no wish to stay in the centre of the fire-storm.

4E 178

_You're reassigned to Skyrim. Go to the city of Windhelm. Keep a close eye on our asset there. Reports once a fortnight. Join him if possible._

_-E._

4E 179

The carriage rolled forward, bumping occasionally on a pot-hole or crevice in the road. There was a Breton sitting opposite me, but the quietly snoring old lady wasn't a threat. It was almost nightfall, the sky was littered with stars and showing a colourful display of northern lights. It was nearly the only thing I liked about Skyrim.

I unfolded the crumpled note in my hand and looked at it for what felt like the hundredth time. I didn't even need to read it - it was etched in my mind. And truthfully, the news weren't so terrible. Mother was assigned to Skyrim, and I was invited to the very first party.

The carriage stopped briefly on the crossroads. I had instructed the driver to pause here when paying. I jumped off, swinging the knapsack on my shoulder and set off in a brisk pace towards the new Embassy.

It wasn't that I hated my mother. Quite the opposite - I admired her and knew her work took a lot of endurance and willpower, not to mention certain creativity. But having her here instead of a whole continent away was a bit disconcerting. I was building my own network of contacts and friends here, and now she was just going to barge in on it all. 'Like a giant in a farmhouse' the Nord saying went, and I could see the resemblance. For all the renowned Altmeri subtlety, my mother was sometimes as blunt as a Nord axe.

I took a deep breath as if to shout, but changed my mind. Ondolemar was still watching me amusedly, and mother beside me was like a cat ready to pounce on first sign of trouble. So I calmed myself and brushed past him without a word. It wouldn't do decapitate guests. None of the Nord nobility had noticed this little occurrence. The night was still young, even if we weren't, and I decided I should best act my age. And later get drunk in a corner somewhere.

4E 197

"But why does an elf want to fight the Empire?" The bulky, greying Nord asked me again, this time a little suspicion crawling into his voice.

I sighed and immediately resented him. If he indeed was Ulfric's second, serving under him would be a pain in pretty much everywhere. I decided to play the patriotic card - that always won all the Nords over. "Because Skyrim is as much my home as a Nords. Why can't I fight for it then?"

"Fine, fine. I guess you'll do." He eyed me over somewhat sceptically, and I knew why. I didn't look like a warrior - I was a mage. But these Nord barbarians would see the power I held soon enough.


	23. Chapter 23

I could almost hear the gods laughing at me. My gods. Magnus, Trinimac, Auriel. I was never particularly devout - that requires belief, and belief is for those who cannot know with certainty. Being Altmer was always about knowledge and confidence. And so I had confidently walked into a trap.

I awoke with a start and immediately jerked myself forwards in a sitting position despite the hands bound behind my back. But a cold bucket of water has that effect on a person. I coughed and spluttered, trying to curse at the same time, and I heard my assailant already leaving, laughing. The room, cell was almost completely dark, lit by the candlelight peeking in through the thick bars. I knew this place. It was the dungeon beneath the embassy. Over the years I had escorted a good number of Stormcloak supporters here to be interrogated, and now by some twisted irony, I was the one to sit on the dirty straw.

My magic was, oddly, at full strength. I realized it with a start, but refrained from burning my bonds right away. Sometimes it's smarter to wait and see.

"So, you decided to return. I guess you didn't get the warning, oh, but wait ... I killed Elenwen's messenger too, didn't I? Just before I sliced her traitorous head off."

The light dimmed. The owner of the voice was approaching my cell. I tried to shuffle back, sitting on my bottom as I was, but my feet were bound too. The movement did nothing but bring the sensation of pain even more sharply into focus. The cell door swung open again creakily and Mayena entered. She leaned against the door-frame, hands crossed on her chest, and looked at me haughtily.

I still despised that face. Far too pretty and delicate to be natural. There were rumours that she had once used the face sculptor's services. Green eyes peered at me from half-closed lids darkened with coal. Green eyes full of contempt.

"Well, I guess I'll have to find something to do with you now. Though I believe Ondolemar mentioned something about wanting a personal slave." She continued, sneering, when I didn't respond to her previous comment. Seeing my eyes widen in shock, she laughed. "Oh, yes I know all about you and Ondolemar. Did you actually think he wanted you back? That he regretted that 'mistake' all those years ago? Oh, we had a merry time laughing about that."

I raised my head. What Mayena was playing was a dangerous game - this land itself showed that. As Stormcloak had deposed the High King, so had Mayena killed the First Ambassador. If the leaders back in Alinor found out, she would be in serious trouble, but on a smaller scale this betrayal could cause a rift even in the troops stationed in Skyrim. And I could win this game. For years I had served as mother's personal assassin, and if there was anything I knew, it was killing people.

My voice was rough, and I had to cough a few times before getting out a real sentence. Mayena looked on with raised brows, probably convinced I would cry. The thought did cross my mind. Finally I managed to say, "Low blow. And it missed anyway. I never had anything for that cheap bastard but a passing fancy." The woman frowned in disbelief and I continued. "So, while you're here and feeling talkative, how about telling me your grand plan? Seeing how I'm not going anywhere for the time being."

"Grand plan? My dear Ain, that was never my idea behind this. Ondolemar's plan - that is another matter. His original thought was to bring you here and bargain with your life for Elenwen to step down. She did always have far too much affection for you. But she managed to find this out when one of our operatives was sloppy with his letters - Nyferil, you remember him, right? - and I had to get rid of her ahead of schedule."

So far it seemed logical, if not exactly in my favour, but I could see the hole where one crucial piece was missing. "But why?" I asked, perplexed.

Mayena snorted and broke out in a rant, pacing around the cell. "You and your mother, you always were too soft with these humans. They need to be eliminated from this land. Tamriel is ours! OURS! The Nords invaded from Atmora, and when we drove them back at the Night of Tears, they just kept coming. They won simply because they breed like skeevers and pushed us out."

"So what, are you simply feeling overly patriotic?"

She stopped abruptly. "You always were a traitor to your own race. Always this seeing the other side of the coin. You thought you were so open-minded, didn't you? It will mean nothing when you're dead and the Dominion declares war on Skyrim."

"Me a traitor? Didn't you participate in the Night of Green Fire with commendable gusto?"

Mayena tripped. Obviously the question was unexpected, and she didn't answer immediately. "They were traitors like you, Ain. They resisted the Dominion."

"And the Redguards?"

She waived her hand dismissively. "Invaders, like the Nords."

"So that is it. You don't see. We won the Great War by a hair's width. And now you and some other maniacs are prepared to wage another one." I couldn't contain my incredulity at this impossible woman. "And by the way, how are you going to explain to High Lord Fyrr of Elenwen's little accident? I'm sure losing one's head cannot be written off to slipping in the bathtub."

She cocked her head, "Maybe I was wrong about you. So flippant about your own mother's death? Maybe you're not so soft. Nevertheless, she has been allegedly killed in action, Ondolemar has been automatically promoted First Emissary, and even Fyrr will have to take action when those pesky Nords start attacking the embassy. Anyhow, it's been a nice chat," she said in a less intense, relaxed tone and smoothed her Thalmor robes, "but you know how it is. So little time, so many Nords to kill. Oh, and I believe Ondolemar will be visiting you sometime soon."

And she left me again, alone with my depressing thoughts.


End file.
